Tracking her across black space-lanes and slapping
magnetic bracelets on her was duck soup for
S.P. Agent Heydrick. Only then did he learn
what a planet-load of trouble he'd bought.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1949.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The inspector of security police dropped his shoes on the floor and put
his feet on the desk where he could watch his toes wriggle.
"Sure we're sloppy here," he said belligerently. "You pretty boys of
the Space Patrol don't know what it's like in a slime-hole frontier
town like 9 Ganymede."
Lee Heydrick smiled grimly. "I guess you didn't catch my name. I earned
these service bars of mine. I was one of four survivors of the first
Trans-Plutonian Expedition."
The inspector suddenly became respectful. "Oh, you're that Heydrick?"
He referred to the credentials on his desk. "What's a pirate-chaser
like you doing on an assignment like this? Seems like picking up
fugitive murderers for the disintegrators is a job for the security
police."
Heydrick grunted. "So it is. I don't like the job any better than you
do. But this is no ordinary murderer. She's a red Martian. Killed
Feyjak, third man in the Red Council. Worked in his laboratory. They
suspect a Wilding plot."
"Feyjak, eh? They ought to give her a medal. I feel sorry for the
girl--good-looker, too. Still sounds like a police job."
Heydrick growled. "Yes, it does. Just some more rotten politics.
There's not supposed to be any politics in the Space Patrol. Hooey! The
Red Scientists are in power, and my foster father, Tyko, is head man of
the Blue. So I get assignments like this. Just so they can get a whack
at Tyko. They hope I'll fail--that's all they want."
The inspector warmed noticeably. "So Tyko's your foster? I'm a blue
myself ... out of working hours. That's why I'm stuck in a last
frontier hellhole like this. Anything I can do to help?"
Heydrick loosened up and sat down. "I don't know. It's a mean job any
way you look at it. The girl says she didn't kill him. They can't use
scopolamine. She's a desert dweller of the old blood, and it doesn't
work on 'em. Why would she kill Feyjak? He wasn't a bad sort. A bit
dim, but that's all. Of course, if she's a Wilding, that would explain
after a fashion. They're all fanatics, but why Feyjak? They could knock
off a lot of others more important. We got a tip she's hiding out on
Ganymede. A place called the Spacerat's Roost. Know anything about it?"
The inspector whistled. "Not much. Enough to stay clear of the place.
It's a dive in the Interplanetary Quarter, a damn tough hole. Mostly
Plutonium prospectors and fungi hunters hang out there. We suspect it's
mixed up in the illegal Moondrug traffic, but can't prove anything. I
never send my boys into that quarter unless it's necessary, and then
only in squads of four. Sure you don't want help?"
Heydrick grinned sourly. "I wouldn't want your boys to get their pretty
uniforms dirty. Do you think you could make me look like a Plutonium
prospector?"
"Can do--that all?"
"Draw me a map of the district. I'll need to know my way around."
"I'd rather draw it than show you. I wouldn't go there alone. Not at
night. They don't like cops."
"Neither do I." Heydrick showed his teeth like an amiable wolf.
"If you're not back in two days, we'll come in after you."
"I'll be back."
* * * * *
The air in the Spacerat's Roost was thick with Fung-weed smoke.
Heydrick mingled with the crowd inside the doorway and noticed men
from every inhabited world in the Solar System. He spotted a vacant
table and elbowed his way to it. A drug-soaked horror from Venus,
obviously the bouncer, looked dubiously at the newcomer in his scuffed
prospector's leather. Heydrick pounded on the table for service.
The waiter was a Jovian octopus man with five tentacles and three eyes.
He came and hovered over the table, blinking sadly, as if life was a
burden to him.
"What'll you have?"
"What've you got?"
The waiter waved a tentacle airily. "Anything you can name--Snow-grape
Champagne from Mars, Deimos rice-nectar, Toad's-eye brandy and
Banana-beer from Venus ..." he paused dramatically, leaned close and
whispered, "even a bit of Blue Moonfoam from Callisto for special
customers."