Free Takeoff! by Randall Garrett

to the Dentless.
     
    The Starboard Admiral frowned and looked up at Sir Houston Carbarn. “I’m afraid I still don’t understand. After Jugavine was destroyed, Banlon, with his sense of perception, which is instantaneous and is not hampered by the velocity of light, should have detected the fact that the planet no longer existed. Why did he continue on in toward a non-existent planet?”
    Sir Houston Carbarn smiled. “(-1)(-1) = +1,” he informed.
    The Starboard Admiral slammed his palm on the desk. “Of course! The principle of the double negative! Two negaspheres made a posisphere! Banlon thought it was Jugavine! Our Gray Lensman has genius, Sir Houston!”
    “!” agreed Sir Houston.
    When Gimble Ginnison strode into his quarters aboard the Dentless, Woozle was waiting for him. “What now?” queried that sapient serpent.
    “ Nowfor a decent meal, Woozle.” He activated a communicator. “Galley? Send up a two-inch-thick steak, rare. Mashed potatoes and thick brown gravy. And a quart of black coffee.”
    “Yes, sir,” came the reply. “And what about dessert, sir?”
    Ginnison sat down in his chair with a triumphant sigh of relief. “Now, at last,” he said, “I can enjoy that for which I have waited so long.”
    “The strawberries, sir?”
    “Exactly. The strawberries.”

THE BEST POLICY

By Randall Garrett
     
    Much to my chagrin, I never met the late Eric Frank Russell. I have admired his writing over the years, and wanted to meet him, but the opportunity never presented itself.
    But if this story sounds like his work, it is because of my appreciation of his style.

    Thagobar Larnimisculus Verf, Borgax of Fenigwisnok, had a long name and an important title, and he was proud of both. The title was roughly translatable as “High-Sheriff-Admiral of Fenigwisnok,” and Fenigwisnok was a rich and important planet in the Dal Empire. Title and name looked very impressive together on documents, of which there were a great many to be signed.
    Thagobar himself was a prime example of his race, a race of power and pride. Like the terrestrial turtles, he had both an exoand an endoskeleton, although that was his closest resemblance to the chelonia. He was humanoid in general shape, looking something like a cross between a medieval knight in full armor and a husky football player clad for the gridiron. His overall color was similar to that of a well-boiled lobster, fading to a darker purple at the joints of his exoskeleton. His clothing was sparse, consisting only of an abbreviated kilt embroidered with fanciful designs and emblazoned with a swirl of glittering gems. The emblem of his rank was engraved in gold on his plastron and again on his carapace, so that he would be recognizable both coming and going.
    All in all, he made quite an impressive figure, in spite of his five feet two inch height.
    As commander of his own spaceship, the Verf, it was his duty to search out and explore planets which could be colonized by his race, the Dal. This he had done diligently for many years, following exactly his General Orders as a good commander should.
    And it had paid off. He had found some nice planets in his time, and this one was the juiciest of the lot.
    Gazing at the magniscreen, he rubbed his palms together in satisfaction. His ship was swinging smoothly in an orbit high above a newly-discovered planet, and the magniscreen was focused on the landscape below. No Dal ship had ever been in this part of the galaxy ‘before, and it was comforting to have discovered a colonizable planet so quickly.
    “A magnificent planet!” he said. “ A wonderful planet! Look at that green! And the blue of those seas!” He turned to Lieutenant Pelquesh. “What do you think? Isn’t it fine?”
    “It certainly is, Your Splendor,” said Pelquesh. “You should receive another citation for this one.”
    Thagobar started to say something, then suddenly cut it short. His hands flew out to the controls and slapped at switch plates;