A tall Venusian stepped into the room.
"Joe?" I asked, just to be sure.
"Who else, boss?" he answered.
"I'm trying to locate someone," I said. "I'll need a guide to take me
into the jungle. Can you get me one?"
"It'll cost you, boss," the Venusian said.
"How much?"
"Two cartons of cigarettes at least."
"Who's the guide?" I asked.
"How's the price sound?"
"Fine, fine," I said impatiently. And the Captain had said they were
almost a childish people!
"His name is Joe," the Venusian told me. "Best damn guide on the
planet. Take you anywhere you want to go, do anything you want to do.
Courageous. Doesn't know the meaning of fear. I've known him to...."
"Skip it," I said, cutting the promotion short. "Tell him to show up
around fifteen hundred with a complete list of what we'll need."
The Venusian started to leave.
"And Joe," I said, stopping him at the door, "I hope you're not
overlooking your commission on the deal."
His face broke into a wide grin. "No danger of that, boss," he said.
When he was gone I began figuring out a plan of action. Obviously, I'd
just have to traipse through the jungle looking for a guy named Joe on
a planet where everyone was named Joe. Everybody, at least, but the
Captain, the small garrison attached to the Station, and me.
* * * * *
I began wondering why Walsh had gone to so much trouble to get rid of
me. The job, as I saw it, would take a hell of a long time. It seemed
like a silly thing to do, just to get even with a guy for something
that had happened years ago. He surely must have realized that I'd be
back again, sooner or later. Maybe he had another little junket all set
for me.
Or maybe he didn't expect me to come back.
The thought hadn't occurred to me before this, and I began to consider
it seriously. Walsh was no good, rotten clear through. He was failing
at the job of keeping Mars in hand, and he probably realized that a
few more mistakes on his part would mean the end of his career with
Space II. I chuckled as I thought of him isolated in some God-forsaken
place like Space V or Space VII. This probably bothered him a lot, too.
But what probably bothered him more was the fact that I was next in
command. If he were transferred, I'd be in charge of Space II, and I
could understand how much that would appeal to Walsh.
I tried to figure the thing out sensibly, tried to weigh his good
points against his bad. But it all came back to the same thing. A
guy who would deliberately go to sleep on Boiler Watch with a ton of
uranium ready to blast a barracks to smithereens if it wasn't watched,
would deliberately do just about anything.
Sending me off on a wild goose chase after a character named Joe may
have been a gag. But it may have been something a little grimmer than a
gag, and I made up my mind to be extremely careful from here on in.
The guide arrived at fifteen hundred on the dot. He was tall,
elongated, looked almost like all the other Venusians I'd seen so far.
"I understand you need a Grade A guide, sir," he said.
"Are you familiar with the jungle?" I asked him.
"Born and raised there, sir. Know it like the back of my hand."
"Has Joe told you what the payment will be?"
"Yes, sir. A carton and a half of cigarettes."