All his life he had been searching for the
big strike. But always he had failed. Now he had
come to Mars—his last chance. This had to be—
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
June 1956
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"That's damned expensive," Gunnison said.
The pilot grinned. "A man wanting to be set down by the Ghanati shouldexpect to pay high." The pilot had a battered old ship, a forgedlicense, a questionable bill of sale. He trafficked only in desperatetrips for desperate people and he knew Gunnison would pay the price.
Scowling, Gunnison counted out the highbinding tribute from a leathersack containing the coins of all the planets. Terran gold eagles,Venusian phalada, Mercurian scoz.
The pilot inspected each coin, bagged the total, "When can you haveyour gear aboard?"
"In twenty minutes."
"We'll leave at sunfall," the pilot said. "Before the moons lift."
Gunnison stowed his equipment. He checked his dehydrates and chemicalnutrients carefully. They would constitute his sole food supply for sixmonths. He also inspected the other vital units of his equipment.
Then he went to the port restaurant and stowed away a meal of vastproportions. He ate with gusto, with grim pleasure, savoring the food,making the meal a sort of farewell symbol; a farewell to his eternallyevil luck.
He drank heavily, but when he left the restaurant and went back to theship he walked erect and his hands were rock-steady. Gunnison had onerequirement of a true adventurer. He could hold his liquor.
But in another need of the soldier of fortune, he was sadly lacking. Hewas not a man of good luck. All his life he had pursued wealth acrossthe System and beyond without a single smile from fortune's gods.
Gunnison had certainly done his part. He was shrewd, daring, ruthless,if the need arose. He was clever and tireless, ever seeking out coupsand strikes. But his coups never quite came off. And someone alwaysbeat him to the strikes. Once on Pluto he arrived at a diamond fieldwell in advance of the pack but the Johnny-come-latelies walked awaywith fortunes while Gunnison grubbed doggedly on his barren claim.
So now he had spent his years and had but a handful of time left fora last try. A shot at the Ghanati, and no try could have been moredesperate than this because failure meant death under the new laws.
Gunnison waited at the ship. The pilot arrived, wiping the last of anevening meal off his mouth with the back of his hand. The pilot grinned.
"Still set on going?"
Gunnison smiled coldly. "If I've changed my mind can I get my moneyback?"
The pilot returned the grin. "I'm afraid I've already spent it."
Gunnison turned without comment and entered the ship.
They lifted from twilight into the bright sun-flare and Gunnison lookeddown into the shadows that lay across the dead face of Mars. He saw thecanals and creeks meandering over the old sea bottoms like traceries onfine lace. He saw the city, half modern, the rest incredibly ancient; aweird mixture of the old and the new. Then the city and the sea bottomvanished in a haze as the ship reached up toward the apex of its arc.Gunnison remained by the port. The next thing he would see would be theborders of the dread Ghanati.
Sullen resentment welled up in Gunnison. He had read his history and heknew how things had changed. In the old days back on Terra, men weregiven freedom to seek and find. Why, once they opened half a planet—awhole hemisphere to those wit