Short Fiction by Mack Reynolds (ready to read books .TXT) π

Description
Dallas McCord βMackβ Reynolds was an American science fiction writer who authored almost two hundred short stories and novellas, was a staple in all the major science fiction and fantasy magazines and published dozens of science fiction novels. He began his writing career in the late 1940s. His fiction focused on exploring and challenging both the socioeconomic themes of the day and the implications of the Cold War that raged throughout his career. A thoughtful writer of speculative fiction, many of Mack Reynoldsβ predictions have come to pass, including the credit-card economy, remote warfare and a worldwide computer network. His thoughts about the outcomes of both the Soviet and western political and economic systems are still highly relevant.
This collection gathers stories that were published in Analog, Astounding Science Fiction, Amazing Stories and others. Ordered by date of first publication, they range from spy adventures to the ultimate expression of corporate warfare and from a very short 1000-word story to full-blown novellas.
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- Author: Mack Reynolds
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βOh, you did, eh?β
βWell, yes, sir. You were, well, reclining in the gutter, sir. In spite of your, well, appearance, your condition, I recognized you, sir.β
βOh.β His stomach was an objecting turmoil.
The Lieutenant said, βWant to try some more of this coffee now, sir? Or maybe some soup or a sandwich?β
Don groaned. βNo. No, thanks. Donβt think I could hold it down.β
The pilot grinned. βYou mustβve thrown a classic, sir.β
βI guess so. What time is it? No, that doesnβt make any difference. Whatβs the date?β
Pierpont told him.
It was hard to believe. The last he could remember heβd been with Di. With Di in some nightclub. He wondered how long ago that had been.
He fumbled in his clothes for a smoke and couldnβt find one. He didnβt want it anyway.
He growled at the Lieutenant, βWell, how go the One Man Scouts?β
Pierpont grinned back at him. βGlad to be out of them, sir?β
βUsually.β
Pierpont looked at him strangely. βI donβt blame you, I suppose. But it isnβt as bad these days as it used to be while you were still in the Space Service, sir.β
Don grunted. βHow come? Two weeks to a month, all by yourself, watching the symptoms of space cafard progress. Then three weeks of leave, to get drunk in, and then another stretch in space.β
The pilot snorted deprecation. βThatβs the way it used to be.β He fingered the spoon of his coffee cup. βThatβs the way it still should be, of course. But it isnβt. Theyβre spreading the duty around now and I spend less than one week out of four on patrol.β
Don hadnβt been listening too closely, but now he looked up. βWhatβdβya mean?β
Pierpont said, βI mean, sir, I suppose this isnβt bridging security, seeing who you are, but fuel stocks are so low that we canβt maintain full patrols any more.β
There was a cold emptiness in Don Mathersβ stomach.
He said, βLook, Iβm still woozy. Say that again, Lieutenant.β
The Lieutenant told him again.
Don Mathers rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth and tried to think.
He said finally, βLook, Lieutenant. First letβs get another cup of coffee into me, and maybe that sandwich you were talking about. Then would you help me to get back to my hotel?β
By the fourth day, his hands werenβt trembling any longer. He ate a good breakfast, dressed carefully, then took a hotel limousine down to the offices of the Mathers, Demming and Rostoff Corporation.
At the entrance to the inner sanctum the heavyset Scotty looked up at his approach. He said, βThe boss has been looking for you, Mr. Mathers, but right now you ainβt got no appointment, have you? Him and Mr. Rostoff is having a big conference. He says to keep everybody out.β
βThat doesnβt apply to me, Scotty,β Don snapped. βGet out of my way.β
Scotty stood up, reluctantly, but barred the way. βHe said it applied to everybody, Mr. Mathers.β
Don put his full weight into a blow that started at his waist, dug deep into the otherβs middle. Scotty doubled forward, his eyes bugging. Don Mathers gripped his hands together into a double fist and brought them upward in a vicious uppercut.
Scotty fell forward and to the floor.
Don stood above him momentarily, watchful for movement which didnβt develop. The hefty bodyguard must have been doing some easy living himself. He wasnβt as tough as he looked.
Don knelt and fished from under the otherβs left arm a vicious-looking short-barrelled scrambler. He tucked it under his own jacket into his belt, then turned, opened the door and entered the supposedly barred office.
Demming and Rostoff looked up from their work across a double desk.
Both scowled. Rostoff opened his mouth to say something and Don Mathers rapped, βShut up.β
Rostoff blinked at him. Demming leaned back in his swivel chair. βYouβre sober for a change,β he wheezed, almost accusingly.
Don Mathers pulled up a stenographerβs chair and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back. He said coldly, βComes a point when even the lowest worm turns. Iβve been checking on a few things.β
Demming grunted amusement.
Don said, βSpace patrols have been cut far below the danger point.β
Rostoff snorted. βIs that supposed to interest us? Thatβs the problem of the militaryβ βand the government.β
βOh, it interests us, all right,β Don growled. βCurrently, Mathers, Demming and Rostoff control probably three-quarters of the systemβs radioactives.β
Demming said in greasy satisfaction, βMore like four-fifths.β
βWhy?β Don said bluntly. βWhy are we doing what weβre doing?β
They both scowled, but another element was present in their expressions too. They thought the question unintelligent.
Demming closed his eyes in his porcine manner and grunted, βTell him.β
Rostoff said, βLook, Mathers, donβt be stupid. Remember when we told you, during that first interview, that we wanted your name in the corporation, among other reasons, because we could use a man who was above law? That a maze of ridiculously binding ordinances have been laid on business down through the centuries?β
βI remember,β Don said bitterly.
βWell, it goes both ways. Government today is also bound, very strongly, and even in great emergency, not to interfere in business. These complicated laws balance each other, you might say. Our whole legal system is based upon them. Right now, weβve got government right where we want it. This is free enterprise, Mathers, at its pinnacle. Did you ever hear of Jim Fisk and his attempt to corner gold in 1869, the so-called Black Friday affair? Well, Jim Fisk was a peanut peddler compared to us.β
βWhatβs this got to do with the Fleet having insufficient fuel toβ ββ β¦β Don Mathers stopped as comprehension hit him. βYouβre holding our radioactives off the market, pressuring the government for a price rise which it canβt afford.β
Demming opened his eyes and said fatly, βFor triple the price, Mathers. Before weβre through, weβll corner half the wealth of the system.β
Don said, βButβ ββ β¦ but the species isβ ββ β¦ atβ ββ β¦ war.β
Rostoff sneered, βYou seem to be getting noble rather late in the game, Mathers. Business is business.β
Don Mathers was shaking his head. βWe immediately begin selling our radioactives at cost of production. I might remind you
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