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 puthis feet on the desk where he could watch his toes wriggle.
"Sure we're sloppy here," he said belligerently. "You pretty boys ofthe Space Patrol don't know what it's like in a slime-hole frontiertown like 9 Ganymede."
Lee Heydrick smiled grimly. "I guess you didn't catch my name. I earnedthese service bars of mine. I was one of four survivors of the firstTrans-Plutonian Expedition."
The inspector suddenly became respectful. "Oh, you're that Heydrick?"He referred to the credentials on his desk. "What's a pirate-chaserlike you doing on an assignment like this? Seems like picking upfugitive murderers for the disintegrators is a job for the securitypolice."
Heydrick grunted. "So it is. I don't like the job any better than youdo. But this is no ordinary murderer. She's a red Martian. KilledFeyjak, third man in the Red Council. Worked in his laboratory. Theysuspect a Wilding plot."
"Feyjak, eh? They ought to give her a medal. I feel sorry for thegirl—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! TheRed Scientists are in power, and my foster father, Tyko, is head man ofthe Blue. So I get assignments like this. Just so they can get a whackat Tyko. They hope I'll fail—that's all they want."
The inspector warmed noticeably. "So Tyko's your foster? I'm a bluemyself ... out of working hours. That's why I'm stuck in a lastfrontier hellhole like this. Anything I can do to help?"
Heydrick loosened up and sat down. "I don't know. It's a mean job anyway you look at it. The girl says she didn't kill him. They can't usescopolamine. She's a desert dweller of the old blood, and it doesn'twork on 'em. Why would she kill Feyjak? He wasn't a bad sort. A bitdim, but that's all. Of course, if she's a Wilding, that would explainafter a fashion. They're all fanatics, but why Feyjak? They could knockoff a lot of others more important. We got a tip she's hiding out onGanymede. 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. MostlyPlutonium prospectors and fungi hunters hang out there. We suspect it'smixed up in the illegal Moondrug traffic, but can't prove anything. Inever send my boys into that quarter unless it's necessary, and thenonly in squads of four. Sure you don't want help?"
Heydrick grinned sourly. "I wouldn't want your boys to get their prettyuniforms dirty. Do you think you could make me look like a Plutoniumprospector?"
"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 atnight. 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 menfrom every inhabited world in the Solar System.