DELAY IN TRANSIT
By F. L. WALLACE
Illustrated by SIBLEY
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction September 1952.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
An unprovoked, meaningless night attack is
terrifying enough on your own home planet, worse
on a world across the Galaxy. But the horror
is the offer of help that cannot be accepted!
"Muscles tense," said Dimanche. "Neural index 1.76, unusually high.Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon."
"Not interested," said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudibleto anyone but Dimanche. "I'm not the victim type. He was standing onthe walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to thehabitat hotel and sit tight."
"First you have to get there," Dimanche pointed out. "I mean, is itsafe for a stranger to walk through the city?"
"Now that you mention it, no," answered Cassal. He looked aroundapprehensively. "Where is he?"
"Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandisedisplay."
A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he wasaccustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's applebobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that alltravelers were crazy.
Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk.It would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course hecould walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?
A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it waspeculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian wasat a definite disadvantage.
"Correction," said Dimanche. "Not simple assault. He has murder inmind."
"It still doesn't appeal to me," said Cassal. Striving to lookunconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway andstared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,he might find safety for a time.
Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to eludehim in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour thestreets would be brightly lighted—for native eyes. A human wouldconsider it dim.
"Why did he choose me?" asked Cassal plaintively. "There must besomething he hopes to gain."
"I'm working on it," said Dimanche. "But remember, I have limitations.At short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpretphysiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is reportwhat a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested infinding out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problemover to the godawful police."
"Godolph, not godawful," corrected Cassal absently.
That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could givethe police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were variousreasons, many of them involving the law, for leaving the device calledDimanche out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own,say, floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem theproper approach, either.
"Weapons?"
"The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A longknife, a