Centauri Vengeance

George Haven was the most powerful man in the galaxy; now he had returned to Centauri and he was afraid--for his past was staring at him!

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy October 1956 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

Haven began to realize it was a mistake returning to Centauri with his wife even before they reached their hotel. For Louise Haven said, as soon as the Centaurian porters had taken their baggage at the starport with cold, aloof correctness:

"Why, George! They don't seem to like you. I thought you would be a hero to them, from what you told me."

George Haven said nothing. He was a big, powerful-looking man in his late thirties. He was expensively dressed and he had taken the most expensive suite in Alpha City's best hotel and he had an expensive, young, and beautiful wife.

He thought: Today I'm one of the most powerful men in the stellar confederacy. What does she expect, that I'll win a popularity contest too? Well, I guess she'll learn eventually what makes an important man truly important. Could you sum it up in a word, in a single clearly understood word? he wondered. He decided that you could. The word was ruthless.

They swept into the hotel with their train of attendants and were received with the same aloof correctness. Haven watched with satisfaction while Louise removed her Sirian furs. Louise was something to look at, all right, but so were the furs. They'd cost Haven plenty and there was probably a trail of blood and tears behind them on Sirius III, for the animals whose coats they were, Haven knew, were ferocious.

It was very cold outside, as it always was on Centauri VII. The small, blue-skinned hotel manager said, in crisp, perfect English:

"The others are already here, Mr. Haven. They are waiting."

Of course the others had already arrived, Haven thought. You had to keep people waiting. Let them know their own importance didn't add up to a hill of beans.

"It's a beautiful suite, George," Louise Haven said after they had taken the pneumotube to their floor and entered their suite through the irising door. "At least the Centaurians saved the best for us."

"I'll always get the best for you, baby," Haven said, and took this beautiful young woman who had been his wife for exactly two months--long enough to reach Centauri--into his arms and kissed her.

Was there something unexpectedly stiff and cold about Louise's response? Haven did not know; he wondered if he had imagined it. Was the coldly correct behavior of the Centaurians getting on his nerves?

"You know," Louise said breathlessly, "it's still a little hard to realize I'm married to a legend. Mrs. George Haven. Mrs. Most-Important-Man-in-the-Galaxy. And it's even harder to believe you got your start right here on Centauri VII. Tell me about it, George."

"Man's got to get his start somewhere," Haven said, surprised that it sounded defensive. "Besides, that's why we've come to Centauri."

It was--and it wasn't. Haven's first big success, almost fifteen years ago, had been here on cold, bleak Centauri VII. Haven and a man named Drexell Tolliver--who had died here in Centauri--had discovered a uranium mine which had dwarfed all the remaining lodes on Earth. With that discovery as a stepping-off point, Haven now owned some fifty percent of all the producing uranium mines in the stellar confederacy. And since stellar civilization was an atomic civilization, Haven could buy and sell politicians across the length and breadth of the inhabited galaxy.

But, he thought now as Louise went into the next room to prepare for the reunion party with the Earthmen and Centaurians who had worked under Haven and Drexell Tolliver fifteen years ago, he hadn't been able to buy as much as a porter on Centauri VII. Damn them! he thought for the hundredth time. Damn the fantastically decadent Centaurians, anyway! They never told lies. It was biologically--or psychologically, he didn't know which--impossible for a Centaurian to tell a lie. On the other hand, Haven remembered from bitter experience, a Centaurian could refuse to answer you altogether. That was usually their way out. They were the most close-lipped people in the galaxy. There were no courts of law on Centauri: there could not be, for no one would testify against anyone else. The only retributive system they had was that of vendetta. It almost seemed incredible to Haven that Centauri VII had been admitted into the stellar confederacy at all.

Haven showered and dressed and wondered about the reunion. It had been his own idea. For here on Centauri was the one mistake which could ruin Haven, here where there were no politicians to be bought. The thought of it had weighed on Haven for fifteen years. It seemed safely hid, his secret. Hadn't fifteen years elapsed? But still, there was no predicting the Centaurians. No predicting them at all.

The reunion was a necessity, assuming Haven had to come. For, if you couldn't buy Centaurians, you could at least buy Earthmen. And Haven might need help.

He chuckled. He hadn't seen anything of these men for fifteen years, but he'd been paying them off regularly, like clockwork. Blackmail? It was hardly blackmail. Haven knew what they knew. Haven had offered them money almost from the beginning, and all of them had accepted. Ruthless, Haven thought again. In their own small way, these half dozen men were ruthless, too. Failures in life, of course, except for the money Haven paid them every month. But ruthless.

"Ready, George?" Louise asked.

Haven looked her up and down slowly. She was ravishingly beautiful. She was George Haven's property. He had made her what she was. He didn't even know her background, had purposely not delved into it. Forget about the past, he'd told her on the eve of their marriage. It's the future which counts. The future....