"All I ask is a contract, Corrigan. It isn't much. I'll be a big
attraction. I'll--"
"_Good-by, Mr. Gorb!_"
He glowered at me reproachfully for a moment, stood up and sauntered to
the door. "I thought you were a man of acumen, Corrigan. Well, think
it over. Maybe you'll regret your hastiness. I'll be back to give you
another chance."
He slammed the door and I let my grim expression relax into a smile.
This was the best con switch yet--an Earthman posing as an alien to get
a job!
But I wasn't buying it, even if I could appreciate his cleverness
intellectually. There's no such place as Wazzenazz XIII and there's
only one human race in the Galaxy--on Earth. I was going to need some
real good reason before I gave a down-and-out grifter a free ticket
home.
I didn't know it then, but before the day was out, I would have that
reason. And, with it, plenty of trouble on my hands.
* * * * *
The first harbinger of woe turned up after lunch in the person of a
Kallerian. The Kallerian was the sixth applicant that afternoon. I
had turned away three more ursinoids, hired a vegetable from Miazan,
and said no to a scaly pseudo-armadillo from one of the Delta Worlds.
Hardly had the 'dillo scuttled dejectedly out of my office when the
Kallerian came striding in, not even waiting for Stebbins to admit him
officially.
He was big even for his kind--in the neighborhood of nine feet high,
and getting on toward a ton. He planted himself firmly on his three
stocky feet, extended his massive arms in a Kallerian greeting-gesture,
and growled, "I am Vallo Heraal, Freeman of Kaller IV. You will sign me
immediately to a contract."
"Sit down, Freeman Heraal. I like to make my own decisions, thanks."
"You will grant me a contract!"
"Will you please sit down?"