The Overlords of War Read Online Free PDF

like. We accept currency from any recognized world.”
    Corson started. “Would you say that again?”
    “We accept money from any recognized world. Any type of currency certificate will settle the matter.”
    Dumbfounded, Corson said, “Money? I don’t have any money!” The word burned his mouth. Money for him was an archaic concept, and rather a disgusting one. He knew, as everyone did, that it had been used—long before the war—as a medium of exchange on Earth, but he had never seen the stuff. The army had always provided everything he needed. He had practically never felt the urge to acquire anything other than what he was allotted. He had been led like all his contemporaries to regard money as an obsolete custom, barbaric in fact, inconceivable in an advanced society. It had never for a moment crossed his mind that he would need money when he left Floria’s ship.
    “I—uh ...” He cleared his throat. “I could maybe work in exchange for what I’ve taken?”
    “Nobody works for money, Mr. Corson. Not on this planet, at least.”
    “But what about you?” Corson said incredulously.
    “I am a machine, Mr. Corson. Let me suggest a way out of this. While waiting for your credit to be established, could you perhaps name a person who would serve as your guarantor?”
    “I only know one person here,” Corson said. “Floria Van Nelle.” “That will suit admirably, Mr. Corson. Forgive me for troubling you. We hope to see you again.”
    The voice fell silent. Corson shrugged, annoyed at feeling so upset. What would Floria think when she found that he had embezzled credit from her? Well, that had been a stroke of bad luck. But that voice was what had really shaken him. Was the “accountant” omnipresent here, able to speak simultaneously with a thousand customers, advise them, inform them, tell them off? Were invisible eyes spying on him all the time, hidden as it were by crannies in the air?
    He shrugged again. At any rate it seemed that he was free to go.
    He located a fairly quiet spot and opened one of the cans. Once again his soldier’s reflexes were at work. While eating he attempted to decide on a course of action. But try as he would he could not picture a future for himself.
    The problem of money, to start with. Without money, it would be hard for him to leave Uria. Interstellar trips must certainly be expensive. To the time trap he was in had now been added a space trap. Unless, within six months, he found a way to earn some money.
    Not by working, since nobody worked for money here. The more he pondered, the tougher the problem seemed. There was nothing he knew how to do which was likely to interest the people of Uria. Worse, in their eyes he was a kind of cripple. The men and women strolling along the avenues of Dyoto could foresee events about to happen in their lives. He did not share that talent, and had every reason to think he never would. The appearance of this power raised several questions which he reviewed for a moment. Was it due to a mutation, suddenly cropping out and spreading rapidly among the human species? Or was it a latent power which could be developed with special training?
    The power implied, anyhow, that in his dealings with the human population here he could never take anyone by surprise. With one exception.
    He knew the distant future of the planet.
    In six months, a swarm of Monsters would cheerfully and ferociously launch an attack on Dyoto, hunting their victims through a maze of space and time. Perhaps their new talent would enable the humans to enjoy a short reprieve. But nothing more.
    It was a good bargaining point. He could warn the central authorities of this planet, advise a total evacuation, or try to perfect the techniques for dealing with Monsters which the Solar Powers had been studying. That was a two-edged sword, though. The Urians might simply decide to hang him.
    He threw the empty food packs overside and watched them fall. Nothing slowed their descent.