“Go right ahead,” she boomed. “God knows, I’ve got nothing against men in business; that’s old-fashioned prejudice. Take your time. I won’t bite you. Get on with your proposition, young man.”
“It isn’t exactly a proposition,” Ross said weakly. All of a sudden the words seemed hard to find. What did you say to a potential partner in the salvation of the human race when she just nodded and blew cigar smoke at you?
He made an effort. “Halsey’s Planet was the seventh alternate destination for this ship, and so we figured——That is, Miss Cavallo, it kind of looked like there was some sort of trouble. So Mr. Haarland—he’s the one who has the F-T-L secret on Halsey, like you do here on Azor—he passed it on to me, of course—well, he asked me to, well, sort of take a look around.” He stopped. The words by then were just barely audible anyhow; and Miss Cavallo had been looking furtively at her watch.
Miss Cavallo shrugged sympathetically to Helena. “They’re all like that under the skin, aren’t they?” she observed ambiguously. “Well, if men could take our jobs away from us, what would we do? Stay home and mind the kids?” She roared and poked a box of cigars at Helena.
“Now,” she said briskly, “let’s get down to cases. I really enjoyed hearing those lines from you, young man, and I want you to know that I’m prepared to help you in any possible way because of them. Open a line of credit, speed up deliveries, send along some of our technical people to help you get set up—anything. Now, what can I do for you? Turret lathes? Grinders? Screw machines?”
“Miss Cavallo,” Ross said desperately, “don’t you know anything about the faster-than-light secret?”
She said impatiently, “Of course I do, young man. Said the responses, didn’t I? There’s no call for that item, though.”
“I don’t want to buy one,” Ross cried. “I have one. Don’t you realize that the human race is in danger? Populations are dying out or going out of communication all over the galaxy. Don’t you want to do something about it before we all go under?”
Miss Cavallo dropped all traces of a smile. Her face was like flint as she stood up and pointed to the window. “Young man,” she said icily, “take a look out there. That’s the Cavallo Machine-Tool Company. Does that look as if we’re going under?”
“I know, but Clyde, Cyrnus One, Ragansworld—at least a dozen planets I can name—are gone. Didn’t you ever think that you might be next?”