Page:Fantastic Universe (1956-10; vol. 8, no. 3).djvu/16

Rh stool. We've got work to do, boy!"

"What? Somebody order one Wilkinson Tiger?"

Mack leaned back against a drafting table along the opposite wall and tapped his fingers together lightly. "One hundred H-62 cruisers." He said it almost in a whisper so that it had the effect of prolonging George's reaction.

George failed to respond. His attention returned to the drawing as if Mack were not there.

The Factory Manager crossed the space between them and slapped his heavy palm on the drawing board. "You hear what I said? One hundred H-62's!"

"Yeah, I heard," said George. "Now I'll tell mine if you're ready. My Uncle Duffy wants nineteen Super-C cargo wagons to haul goose feathers from his farm out Harlamanian way."

Mack's face darkened as he rounded the board and grasped the engineer's arm. He jerked roughly. "This is on the level, George! I was just in the Old Man's office and he had a confirmation. The technical modification consultant is already here. He'll be in the plant this afternoon!"

George turned without expression on his face. "Who?" he said.

"Somebody named Sleth Forander, from Ragalian IX. Never heard of them before, but we checked their Galactic Import License. It's clean. And they'll take the standard H-62 with customary cultural modifications. This is big, George. It'll put us on our feet and in a position to level with Monarch and Apex for an equivalent subsidy. This is what we've been dreaming about for six long, sad years. And now we've got it! One hundred H-62's!"

"Why didn't Monarch or Apex get it?"

"Who knows? Who cares? Maybe the Ragalians like us better. They said they'd seen our Model H-62 and it was exactly what they wanted—with customary modifications, of course."

"There's a reason," said George slowly. "If this actually is on the level, there has to be a reason. An independent like Wilkinson Spacecraft just doesn't take orders that size out from under the noses of the government-subsidized heavies. Not unless there's a reason!"

"Are you going to quibble over that?" Mack said, half-angrily. "Maybe Monarch and Apex are too busy to handle it."

"They know it would set us up to really compete with them instead of being confined to the small private ship and sports cruiser business."

"Well, whatever the reason, we've got the deal. I've already alerted my production team. Get the lead out and start going over those H-62 prints so you can throw in the modifications without keeping my men standing around on one foot for two weeks!"

George shook his head slowly. "No."