Jerry Vanning trailed the fugitive Callahan
into the swampy wastes of Venus, Hell-Kingdom
of the fabled War-Gods. He reached his goal--walking
with the robot-strides of a North-fever slave.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 42.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I
Earth Consul, Goodenow, tossed a packet of microfilms to Vanning, and
said, "You're crazy. The man you're after isn't here. Only damn fools
ever come to Venus--and don't ask me why I'm here. You're crazy to
think you'll find a fugitive hiding on this planet."
Jerry Vanning, earth state investigator, moved his stocky body
uneasily. He had a headache. He had had it ever since the precarious
landing through the tremendous wind-maelstroms of the pea-soup Venusian
atmosphere. With an effort he focused his vision on the micro-projector
Goodenow handed him, and turned the tiny key. Inside the box, a face
sprang into view. He sighed and slid another of the passport-films into
place. He had never seen the man before.
"Routine check-up," he said patiently. "I got a tip Callahan was
heading here, and we can't afford to take chances."
The consul mopped his sweating, beefy face and cursed Venusian
air-conditioning units. "Who is this guy Callahan, anyway?" he asked.
"I've heard a little--but we don't get much news on the frontier."
"Political refugee," Vanning said, busy with the projector.
"Potentially, one of the most dangerous men in the System. Callahan
started his career as a diplomat, but there wasn't enough excitement
for him."