Sjambak Part 1

Sjambak.

by John Holbrook Vance.

_Wilbur Murphy sought romance, excitement, and an impossible Horseman of s.p.a.ce. With polite smiles, the planet frustrated him at every turn--until he found them all the hard way!_

SJAMBAK

By Jack Vance

Ill.u.s.trated by VIRGIL FINLAY

Howard Frayberg, Production Director of _Know Your Universe!_, was a man of sudden unpredictable moods; and Sam Catlin, the show's Continuity Editor, had learned to expect the worst.

"Sam," said Frayberg, "regarding the show last night...." He paused to seek the proper words, and Catlin relaxed. Frayberg's frame of mind was merely critical. "Sam, we're in a rut. What's worse, the show's dull!"

Sam Catlin shrugged, not committing himself.

"_Seaweed Processors of Alphard IX_--who cares about seaweed?"

"It's factual stuff," said Sam, defensive but not wanting to go too far out on a limb. "We bring 'em everything--color, fact, romance, sight, sound, smell.... Next week, it's the Ball Expedition to the Mixtup Mountains on Gropus."

Frayberg leaned forward. "Sam, we're working the wrong slant on this stuff.... We've got to loosen up, sock 'em! Shift our ground! Give 'em the old human angle--glamor, mystery, thrills!"

Sam Catlin curled his lips. "I got just what you want."

"Yeah? Show me."

Catlin reached into his waste basket. "I filed this just ten minutes ago...." He smoothed out the pages. "'Sequence idea, by Wilbur Murphy.

Investigate "Horseman of s.p.a.ce," the man who rides up to meet incoming s.p.a.ce-ships.'"

Frayberg tilted his head to the side. "Rides up on a _horse_?"

"That's what Wilbur Murphy says."

"How far up?"

"Does it make any difference?"

"No--I guess not."

"Well, for your information, it's up ten thousand, twenty thousand miles. He waves to the pilot, takes off his hat to the pa.s.sengers, then rides back down."

"And where does all this take place?"

"On--on--" Catlin frowned. "I can write it, but I can't p.r.o.nounce it."

He printed on his scratch-screen: CIRGAMESc.

"Sirgamesk," read Frayberg.

Catlin shook his head. "That's what it looks like--but those consonants are all aspirated gutturals. It's more like 'Hrrghameshgrrh'."

"Where did Murphy get this tip?"

"I didn't bother to ask."

"Well," mused Frayberg, "we could always do a show on strange superst.i.tions. Is Murphy around?"

"He's explaining his expense account to Shifkin."

"Get him in here; let's talk to him."

Wilbur Murphy had a blond crew-cut, a broad freckled nose, and a serious sidelong squint. He looked from his crumpled sequence idea to Catlin and Frayberg. "Didn't like it, eh?"

"We thought the emphasis should be a little different," explained Catlin. "Instead of 'The s.p.a.ce Horseman,' we'd give it the working t.i.tle, 'Odd Superst.i.tions of Hrrghameshgrrh'."

"Oh, h.e.l.l!" said Frayberg. "Call it Sirgamesk."

"Anyway," said Catlin, "that's the angle."

"But it's not superst.i.tion," said Murphy.

"Oh, come, Wilbur ..."

"I got this for sheer sober-sided fact. A man rides a horse up to meet the incoming ships!"

"Where did you get this wild fable?"

"My brother-in-law is purser on the _Celestial Traveller_. At Riker's Planet they make connection with the feeder line out of Cirgamesc."

"Wait a minute," said Catlin. "How did you p.r.o.nounce that?"

"Cirgamesc. The steward on the shuttle-ship gave out this story, and my brother-in-law pa.s.sed it along to me."

"Somebody's pulling somebody's leg."

"My brother-in-law wasn't, and the steward was cold sober."

"They've been eating _bhang_. Sirgamesk is a Javanese planet, isn't it?"

"Javanese, Arab, Malay."

"Then they took a _bhang_ supply with them, and _hashish_, _chat_, and a few other sociable herbs."

"Well, this horseman isn't any drug-dream."