Chapter I: Front Matter

GRANDMA PERKINS AND THE SPACE PIRATES

By JAMES McCONNELL

_Raven-haired, seductive Darling Toujours'
smoke-and-flame eyes kindled sparks in hearts
all over the universe. But it took sweet old
Grandma Perkins, of the pirate ship_ Dirty
Shame, _to set the Jupiter moons on fire_.

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories March 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

"I can always get along with a man if he remembers who he is," said Darling Toujours, the raven-haired, creamy-skinned televideo actress whose smoke-and-flame eyes lit fires in hearts all over the solar system. She was credited with being the most beautiful woman alive and there were few who dared to contradict her when she mentioned it.

"And I can always get along with a woman if she remembers who _I_ am," replied Carlton E. Carlton, the acid-tongued author whose biting novels had won him universal fame. He leaned his thin, bony body back into the comfort of an overstuffed chair and favored the actress with a wicked smile.

The two of them were sitting in the finest lounge of the luxury space ship _Kismet_, enjoying postprandial cocktails with Captain Homer Fogarty, the _Kismet's_ rotund commanding officer. The _Kismet_ was blasting through space at close to the speed of light, bound from Callisto, one of Jupiter's moons, back to Earth. But none of the two hundred Earthbound passengers were conscious of the speed at all.

Darling Toujours waved a long cigarette holder at the author. "Don't pay any attention to him, Captain. You know how writers are--always putting words in other people's mouths, and not very good ones at that."

"Do you mean not very good words or not very good mouths, my dear?" Carlton asked. The solar system's most famous actress clamped her scarlet lips shut with rage. It would take someone like Carlton E. Carlton, she knew, to point out the one minor blemish in an otherwise perfect body--her slightly over-sized mouth.

She began to wish that she had never left Callisto, that she had cancelled her passage on the _Kismet_ when she learned that Carlton was to be a fellow passenger. But her studio had wired her to return to Earth immediately to make a new series of three dimensional video films. And the _Kismet_ was the only first class space ship flying to Earth for two weeks. So she had kept her ticket in spite of Carlton.

"I must say that I think Miss Toujours has the prettiest mouth I've ever seen," boomed Captain Fogarty, his voice sounding something like a cross between a foghorn and a steam whistle. And he was not merely being gallant, for many a lonely night as he flew the darkness between Earth and the many planets, he had dreamed of caressing those lips.

"And I think you are definitely a man of discriminating taste," said Darling demurely, crossing her legs and arranging her dress to expose a little more of the Toujours charms to the Captain's eye.

Carlton smiled casually at the exposed flesh. "It's all very pretty, my dear," he said smugly. "But we've seen it all before and in space you're supposed to act like a lady, if you can act that well."

Darling Toujours drew back her hand to smack Carlton one in a very unlady-like manner when she suddenly realized that they were not alone. Her hand froze, poised elegantly in mid-air, as she turned to see a newcomer standing at the door.

* * * * *

The witness to the impending slap was a withered little lady, scarcely five feet tall, with silvered hair, eyes that twinkled like a March wind, and a friendly rash of wrinkles that gave her face the kindly, weathered appearance of an old stone idol. Her slight figure was lost in volumes of black cloth draped on her in a manner that had gone out of style at least fifty years before. The little woman coughed politely.

"I beg your pardon," she told them in a sweet, high little voice. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything. If you would like to hit the gentleman, Miss Toujours, I'll be glad to come back later."

Darling Toujours opened her violet eyes wide in surprise. "Why, I was ... I was ... I--" The actress uttered a small, gulping sound as she recovered her poise. "Why, I was just going to pat him on the cheek for being such a nice boy. You are a nice boy, aren't you, Carlton?" She leaned forward to stroke him gently on the face. Carlton roared with laughter and the good Captain colored deeply.

"Oh," said the little old woman, "I'm sorry. I didn't know that he was your son." Carlton choked suddenly and Darling suffered from a brief fit of hysteria.

The Captain took command. "Now, look here, Madam," he sputtered. "What is it you want?"

"I really wanted to see you, Captain," she told him, her battered old shoes bringing her fully into the room with little mincing steps. "The Purser says I have to sign a contract of some kind with you, and I wanted to know how to write my name. I'm Mrs. Omar K. Perkins, but you see, I'm really Mrs. Matilda Perkins because my Omar died a few years ago. But I haven't signed my name very much since then and I'm not at all sure of which is legal." She put one bird-like little hand to her throat and clasped the cameo there almost as if it could give her support. She looked so small and so frail that Fogarty forgave her the intrusion.

"It really doesn't make much difference how you sign the thing, just so long as you sign it," he blustered. "Just a mere formality anyway. You just sign it any way you like." He paused, hoping that she would leave now that she had her information.

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that," she said, but made no move whatsoever to leave. Captain Fogarty gave her his hardened stare of the type which withered most people where they stood. Mrs. Perkins just smiled sweetly at him.

His rage getting out of hand, he finally blurted, "And now, Mrs. Perkins, I think you'd better be getting back to your quarters. As you know, this is a private lounge for the _first_ class passengers."

Mrs. Perkins continued to smile at him. "Yes, I know. It's lovely, isn't it? I'll just go out this way." And before anyone could stop her, she had moved to the door to Darling Toujours' suite and had opened it, stepping inside.

"That's my room, not the door out," Darling said loudly.

"So I see," said Mrs. Perkins, staring at the opulent furnishings with avid pleasure. "It's such a pretty thing, all done up with mother-of-pearl like that, isn't it? And what a pretty lace nightie lying on the bed." Mrs. Perkins picked up the sheer, gossamer garment to examine it. "You do wear something under it, don't you?"

Darling screeched and darted for the door. She snatched the nightie away from Mrs. Perkins and rudely propelled the older woman out the door, closing it behind her. "Captain, this woman must GO!"

"I was just leaving, Miss Toujours. I hope you and your son have a very happy voyage. Good day, Captain Fogarty," she called over her shoulder as she exited. Carlton E. Carlton's shrill laughter followed her down the companionway.

* * * * *

Mrs. Perkins had been lying in her berth reading for less than an hour when the knock sounded at her door. She would have preferred to sit up and read, but her cabin was so small that there was no room for any other furniture besides the bed.

"Come in," she called in a small voice.

Johnny Weaver, steward for the cheaper cabins, poked his youthful, freckled face through the door. "Howdy, Mrs. Perkins. I wondered if I could do anything for you? It's about ten minutes before we eat."

"Well, you can pull that big box down from the top shelf there, if you don't mind. And, I wonder, would you mind calling me Grandma? All my children do it and I miss it so." She gave him a wrinkled smile that was at once wistful and petulant.

Johnny laughed in an easy, infectious manner. "Sure thing, Grandma." He stretched his long arms up to bring down the heavy bag and found himself wondering just how it had gotten up there in the first place. He didn't remember ever putting it there for her and Grandma Perkins was obviously too frail a woman to have handled such a heavy box by herself. He put it on the floor.

As she stooped over and extracted a pair of low-heeled, black and battered shoes from the box, she asked him, "Johnny, what was that paper I signed this afternoon?"

"Oh, that? Why that was just a contract for passage, Grandma. You guaranteed to pay them so much for the flight, which you've already done, and they guaranteed that you wouldn't be put off against your will until you reached your destination."

"But why do we have to have a contract?"

Johnny leaned back, relaxing against the door. "Well, STAR--that's Stellar Transportation and Atomic Research, you know--is one of the thirteen monopolies in this part of the solar system. The "Big Thirteen," we call them. STAR charters every space flight in this neck of the woods. Well, back in the old days, when space flights were scarce, it used to be that you'd pay for a ticket from Saturn to Earth, say, and you'd get to Mars and they'd stop for fuel. Maybe somebody on Mars would offer a lot of money for your cabin. So STAR would just bump you off, refund part of your money and leave you stranded there. In order to get the monopoly, they had to promise to stop all that. And the Solar Congress makes them sign contracts guaranteeing you that they won't put you off against your wishes. Of course, they don't dare do it anymore anyway, but that's the law."

Grandma Perkins sighed. "It's such a small cabin I don't think anybody else would want it. But it's all that I could afford," she said, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress with both hands.

"Anything else I can do for you, Grandma?"

"No, thank you, Johnny. I think I can make it up the steps to the dining room by myself."

A little while later when Johnny looked into her room to see if she had gone, the cabin was empty and the heavy box was back in place in the top cabinet.

* * * * *

The food that evening was not the very best, Grandma Perkins thought to herself, but that was mostly due to her seat. By the time the waiter got around to her little cranny most of it was cold. But she didn't complain. She enjoyed watching the people with the more expensive cabins parade their clothes and their manners at the Captain's table. And, it must be admitted, she was more than a trifle envious of them. Her acquaintances of the afternoon, Miss Toujours and Mr. Carlton, were seated there, Miss Toujours having the place of honor to the Captain's right.

Grandma watched them as they finished up their food and then she moved from her little table over to one of the very comfortable sofas in the main lounge. In reality she wasn't supposed to be sitting there, but she hoped that she could get away with it. The divans were so much more comfortable than her hard, narrow bed that she felt like sitting there for a long time, by herself, just thinking.

But her hopes met with disappointment. For shortly after she sat down, Darling Toujours and Carlton E. Carlton strolled over and sat down across from her, not recognizing her at first. Then Carlton spied her.

"Darling! There's that priceless little woman we met this afternoon."

"The little hag, you mean," Miss Toujours muttered under her breath, but loudly enough for Grandma Perkins to hear.

"Why, hello, Miss Toujours. And Mr. Carlton too. I hope you'll forgive me for this afternoon. I've found out who you were, you see."

"Of course we forgive you, Mrs. Jerkins," Darling said throatily, baring her teeth like a feline.

"My name is Perkins," Grandma smiled.

"I hope you don't mind, Toujours, but you know, you remind me a great deal of my grandniece, Agatha. She was undoubtedly the most lovely child I've ever seen."

"Why, thank you, Mrs. Perkins," Darling purred, starting to preen just a bit. Anything could be forgiven someone who complimented her.

"Of course, Agatha never was quite bright," Grandma said as she turned her head aside as if in sorrow. "They were all set to put her in an institution when she ran off and married the lizard man in a carnival. I believe she's still appearing in the show as the bearded lady. A pity. She was so pretty, just like you."

Darling Toujours muttered a few choice words under her breath.

"But we must all make the best of things as they come. That's what Omar, my husband, used to say." Grandma paused to wipe away a small tear that had gotten lodged in one of her eyes. "That reminds me," she said finally, "I've got a three dimensional picture of Omar right here. And pictures of all my children, my ten lovely children. I brought them with me specially tonight because I thought you might want to look at them. Now, where did I put them?" Grandma opened her purse and began rummaging around in its voluminous confines.

Darling and Carlton exchanged horrified glances and then rose silently and tip-toed out of the lounge.

Grandma looked up from her search. "Oh, my, they seem to have gone."

Johnny Weaver, who had been clearing one of the nearby tables, put down a stack of dirty dishes and came over to her. "I'd like to see the pictures, Grandma."

"Oh, that's very nice of you, Johnny, but--" she said quickly.

"Really I would, Grandma. Where are they?"

"I--" She stopped and the devilment showed in her eyes. Her withered little face pursed itself into a smile. "There aren't any pictures, Johnny. I don't carry any. I know their faces all so well I don't have to. But any time I want to get rid of somebody I just offer to show them pictures of my family. You'd be surprised how effective it is."

Johnny laughed. "Why are you going to Earth, anyway, Grandma?"

The old woman sighed. "It's a long story, Johnny, but you just sit down and I'll tell it to you."

"I can't sit down in the lounge, but I'll be glad to stand up and listen."

"Then I'll make it a short story. You see, Johnny, I'm an old woman. I'll be 152 this year. And ever since Omar, my husband, died a few years ago, I've lived from pillar to post. First with one child and then with another. They've all been married for decades now of course, with children and grandchildren of their own. And I guess that I just get in their way. There just isn't much left in life for a feeble old woman like me." She sniffled a moment or two as if to cry. Johnny, remembering the heavy box in her cabin that got moved up and down without his help, suppressed a smile on the word "feeble."

"There aren't many friends my age left around any more. So I'm being sent to Earth to a home full of dear, sweet old ladies my age, the money for which is being provided by my dear, sweet children--all ten of them." Grandma dabbed a bit of a handkerchief at her eyes. "The rats," she muttered under her breath. When she saw her companion was smiling she dropped her pretense of crying.

"To be truthful, Johnny, they've grown old and stodgy, all of them. And I'm sure they think I've lost most of my marbles. Everything I did embarrassed them, so I guess it's for the best, but--"

Grandma Perkins never finished the sentence, for interrupting her came the horrendous clang of the _Kismet's_ general alarm, and on its heels, charging through the main salon like a rhinoceros in heat, came Captain Fogarty.

"PIRATES! PIRATES! We're being attacked by space pirates! You there!" he shouted at Johnny. "Man your station! And you, Madam, to your quarters at once! PIRATES!" he shouted again and barged through the door again and bellowed down the hall to the main bridge.

Johnny was off like a startled rabbit, but Grandma moved with serene calmness to the door. Maybe, she thought, we're going to have a little excitement after all.

At the door to the steps leading to her downstairs cabin she paused to think.

"If I go down and hide, I'll miss all the fun. Of course, it's safer, and an old woman like me shouldn't be up and about when pirates are around, but--" A delicious smile spread over her face as she took her scruples firmly in hand and turned to follow the bellowing Captain towards the bridge.