_A Novelet by_ JAMES H. SCHMITZ
_When Peer and Channok grappled the derelict
Ra-Twelve, they hooked a death-prize--haunted
by the Yomm, stalked by the Mysterious Nine!_
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories May 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The celebration of the wedding of Peer and Channok had to be cut a
little short, because a flock of police-boats from Irrek showed up at
detector-range about midway. But it was carried off with a flourish
nevertheless.
The oxygen-bubble in the small moon crater was filled with colorful
solidographs, creating the impression of an outdoor banquet hall. The
best bands playing in the Empire that night unwittingly contributed
their efforts, and food and drink were beyond reproach.
Though somewhat dazed throughout, Channok was startled to discover
at one point that the thick carpets on which he stood were a genuine
priceless Gaifornaab weave--and no solidographs either! The eighty-four
small ships of the space-rat tribe--or voyageurs, as they distinctly
preferred to be called--lined up along the outer edges of the banquet
hall looked eerily out of place to him; but Peer didn't seem to mind.
Her people rarely did go far away from their ships, and the lawless,
precarious life they led made that an advisable practice.
It would be up to him now, Channok reflected, beaming down on Peer,
to educate her into customs and attitudes more fitting for the wife
of a regular citizen of the Empire and probable future member of the
Imperial Secret Service--
And then, suddenly, the whole ceremony seemed to be over! A bit
puzzled by the abruptness with which everybody had begun to pack up
and leave, Channok was standing beside the ramp of his own ship, the
_Asteroid_--an honest, licensed trader--when Santis strolled over to
talk to him. Santis was Peer's father and the pint-sized chieftain of
the tribe.
"Didn't tell you before, son," he remarked, "because you were already
nervous enough. But as soon as they finish collapsing the bubble,
you'll have about six minutes to get your _Asteroid_ aloft and off this
moon before the cops from Irrek arrive!"
"I heard you, Pop, and everything's packed!" Peer called down from the
open lock of the _Asteroid_. "Come up and kiss me good-by and we'll
seal her up!"
Frowning suspiciously, Channok followed Santis up the ramp. "Why should
I worry about cops?" he inquired, looking down at the two little people
while they briefly embraced. Peer came about up to his shoulder, though
perfectly formed, and Santis was an inch or two shorter. The tribe
didn't run to bulk. "Nobody's hunting for me!"
"Not yet, son," Santis conceded. He twirled his fierce brown
mustache-tips thoughtfully and glanced at Peer.
"If you're passing anywhere near Old Nameless, you might cache that
special cargo you're carrying for me there," he told her. "Around the
foot of the Mound. Too bulky for the ships I've got here! Put a dowser
plate in with it, and I'll come pick it up with a transport sometime in
the next four months."
"Yes, Pop," said Peer.
"The Fourth Voyageur Fleet will rendezvous at New Gyrnovaan next
Terra-spring. If you can talk this big lug into it, try to make it
there, daughter!"
"We'll be there," promised Peer.
Channok cleared his throat impatiently. Not if he could help it, they
wouldn't!
"Those cops are looking for the missing Crown Jewels of Irrek," Santis
resumed, looking at him. "After they've opened you up from stem to
stern to make sure you're not hiding them, they might apologize. And
again they might not."
"Holy Satellites!" Channok said, stunned. "Did you actually--"
"Not I, son. I just master-mind these things. Some of the boys did the
job. There goes the oxygen-bubble! Now will you get going?"
They got going, Channok speechless for once.
* * * * *
Some two months later, he stood in the _Asteroid's_ control room,
watching a pale blur creep up along the starboard screen.
"That's not just one ship--that's at least a hundred!" he announced
presently, somewhat startled. "Looks like they've turned out the entire
Dardrean war-fleet! Wonder what's up?"
Peer laid the cargo list she was checking down on the desk and came
over to look at the screen.
"Hm!" she said.
"It couldn't possibly have anything to do with us, could it?" he
inquired, on a sudden alarming hunch. Being unfamiliar with the dialect
used on Dardrea, he had left most of the bargaining there to her.
Peer shrugged. She showed the bland, innocent look of a ten-year-old
child, but that was habitual with her. On one occasion she'd been
mistaken for his daughter, and at times he even had to remind himself
that she'd been eighteen and a student at the Imperial Institute of
Technology when he first met her there--and then unwittingly became
Santis' tool in the abstraction of a small but important section of the
IIT's top-secret experimental files! He'd been trying to counteract
that little brigand's influence on Peer ever since, but he wasn't too
sure of his degree of success so far.
"We took the Merchants Guild for plenty on our auction!" she admitted.
"Well," Channok frowned, "they'd hardly send a fleet after us for that."
"And, of course," added Peer, "we got the Duke of Dardrea's fabulous
Coronet. Forgot to mention that. Perfectly legal, though! Some local
crook swiped it and we took it in trade."
Channok winced. As a matter of fact, fencing _was_ a perfectly
legitimate business on Dardrea. But a man who planned to enter the
Imperial Secret Service, as soon as he could save up the money to pay
his way through the Academy, couldn't afford any stains on his past!
Throughout the Empire, the Service was renowned in song and story as
the one body of men who stood above the suspicion of reproach.
"The Duke won't know it's gone for another week," Peer consoled him.
"Anyway, it looks to me as if those ships are beginning to pull off our
course!"
There followed some seconds of tense observation.
"So they are," Channok acknowledged then. He mopped his forehead. "But
I wish you wouldn't be quite so technical in your interpretation of
local laws, Peer! Those babies are really traveling. Wonder who or what
they're chasing?"
Three days later, as the _Asteroid_ approached the area of the red
giant sun of Old Nameless, where they were going to cache Santis' cargo
for him--hot cargo, probably; and it would be a load off Channok's mind
to get rid of it--they picked up the trail of the foundering spaceship
_Ra-Twelve_ and found part of the answer on board.