Whistle Stop in Space, by Kendell Foster Crossen

The Draco Vacation Service occupied one floor in Interplanetary Towers in Nuyork. The seventy-second floor, to be exact. It had been decorated by one of the best robot-decorators in the Federation and looked it. On one wall of the large reception room there was a three-dimensional mural of Caph II. The blue sand and towering purple trees seemed so real that many of the more bucolic visitors bumped into the wall before they realized it was a painting. In front of the mural there was a fountain spouting the pink water of Caph that tasted like champagne.

On another wall was a montage of photographs of Caph, and blazoned across it: YOU CAN CHEAT TIME BY VACATIONING ON SUNNY CAPH, THE PLAYLAND OF THE UNIVERSE. A TWO WEEK VACATION IS TEN MONTHS ON CAPH. THE ONLY PLACE IN THE GALAXY WHERE LIFE PAYS YOU TWENTY-TO-ONE. YOU OWE CAPH TO YOURSELF.

Business was rushing, as it had been every day since the Draco Vacation Service had opened. Despite the fact that there weren't enough tour-managers to take care of the crowd, and that there was a Fomalhautan millionaire who thought it was demeaning to discuss his vacation with anyone except the president, it was only two o'clock when Manning Draco left his private office. He stopped for a moment beside the receptionist, an attractive Martian female. There were at least a dozen persons crowded around her as she answered their questions. Manning stood by her desk, apparently paying no attention to her.

Dhena, he thought, I have to leave. It's possible that I may be gone several days. Paul Sterling will be in charge. This was the chief reason he had hired a Martian receptionist. Telepathic communication was a great advantage when you didn't want to be overheard.

Yes, Mr. Draco. Her answering thought was clear and strong as she continued to deal with the questions of would-be vacationists. Where will you be if we need you?

With my back against a wall, if I know anything about it, he thought sourly. He walked across the office and took the level converter. Downstairs, he climbed into an air-cab and gave the driver the address of his home.

Manning Draco no longer lived in the tiny bachelor apartment he had once called home. Draco Vacation Service, started shortly after he had married Vega Cruikshank, had prospered right from the beginning and he had rented a modest pent-estate in the upper East side. The house, built on top of one of the giant apartment buildings, was modern in every respect and was surrounded by two acres of landscaped grounds.

Vega came running out to meet him as the cab deposited him on the landing strip in front of the house.

"Darling," she exclaimed, giving him a kiss, "you remembered and came home early."

"Barnaby is five months old today," she said proudly. "You mean that isn't why you came home early?" Barnaby was, of course, Manning's and Vega's son who had been born on Caph II. He had been named after J. Barnaby Cruikshank, his grandfather, the president of the Greater Solarian Insurance Company, Monopolated, for whom Manning—in his own words—had given the best years of his life. At the age of five months, young Barnaby produced a number of gurgling sounds which Manning swore were pure Capellanese.

"I remembered his birthday," Manning said, momentarily forgetting his gloom. "I ordered him a set of atomic trains. Haven't they been delivered yet?"

"Oh, Manning," Vega said, laughing, as they went into the house. "Atomic trains. He won't be able to play with those for another six years."

"Not Barnaby," Manning declared. "He's a smart kid. He'll have them in operation before you know it."

"Sit down and relax and then you'll tell me all about it," Vega said soothingly. "Have you heard the wonderful news about father? After all these years of making big contributions to the Republocrats, he's finally been given the sort of reward he's wanted. He's been made Secretary of Planets."

Vega recognized the tone, although she couldn't imagine what was causing it. She slipped her hand in his and waited.

"I don't know what he's up to," Manning said, "but you can be sure that it's something I won't like. He called and told me the news this afternoon. I knew it was something he'd always wanted and so I poured on a little flattery. I told him that I thought it was pretty generous of him to take time from his business to devote his talents to government. I even mentioned that the Federation should have more public-spirited citizens like him."

"Ha!" said Manning without humor. "He said he was glad that I felt that way because he had a job for me to do and he would expect me in his office on Rigil Kentaurus at three-thirty this afternoon."

"Oh," said Vega. Now she understood. "But you can't possibly leave the business now, darling! This is the middle of the vacation season."

"I explained those things to him," Manning said bitterly. "His only answer was to tell me that as Secretary of Planets he has the right to draft any citizen for special emergency jobs. He said that if I weren't in his office by three-thirty, he'd send the police after me. He would, too."

"Go to Rigil Kentaurus. On the way, I'm going to try to figure out some way of legally removing a father-in-law. Come on, help me pack. I'd better take a few things. When your father has something he wants me to do I'm liable to need anything from an extra pair of socks to a few spare lives."

"All right, darling," Vega said. She followed him into their bedroom. "But if Daddy sends you chasing off to some strange planet, remember one thing, Manning Draco. No girls—not even platonic ones. No reverting to type."

"You wrong me, dear," Manning said in wounded tones. "I never chased after women in my life. They chased me. Take, for example, that lovely girl, the former Vega—"

"All right," Vega interrupted, "only be sure that you run faster than you did when I chased you."

"I can't help it if I'm irresistible to women," Manning purred and ducked the shoe she aimed at him.

A few minutes later, a vacuum-packed traveling case under his arm, Manning Draco bestowed a brief kiss on his sleeping son, a longer one on his wife, and took an air-cab to the Nuyork spaceport. He had phoned them from the office so that his space cruiser, the Alpha Actuary, was already on the launching rack. He climbed in, cleared with the control tower, and blasted off.

When he reached the edge of atmosphere, he threw the ship into magnidrive for the ten-minute run to Rigil Kentaurus.

At exactly three-thirty Manning Draco was in the Planet Department building, being shown into the office of the Secretary.

At forty-one, J. Barnaby Cruikshank was one of the most successful men in the Galaxy. He had originally inherited the Greater Solarian Insurance Company from his grandfather, but it had been a small company barely making a profit. J. Barnaby had built it up until its assets were somewhere around one and a half trillion credits.[1] He had been very active in galactic politics, and much of his success was due to that, but this was the first time he'd been given active participation in the government.

J. Barnaby had always operated on the theory that chaos was just around the corner. Those who worked for Greater Solarian—as Manning had until only a few months before—were accustomed to J. Barnaby's looking as though the corner had finally been rounded. So the rumpled appearance of the new Secretary of Planets had no effect on Manning.

As he entered the office, he caught a glimpse of another man leaving by a side door. He was a Vegan, his skin the clear green of old jade. The weave of his light plastic suit indicated that he was a high-caste Vegan.

"Jimwe Gnade. Harris is being made an ambassador and the Vegan is going to be the new candidate for vice president."

"Great Fomalhaut," exclaimed Manning. "Now we're even going to have political candidates who contain chlorophyll."

"How do you expect them to feel, losing husband and father just so you can make a big man out of yourself?"

"Not much," J. Barnaby said with a familiar grin. "The penalty for refusing a government draft is five years."

"Little Barnaby," said Manning, "will have enough trouble living down the fact that he has you for a grandfather, so he'll need my fatherly guidance. I'll do it."

"My dear Manning," J. Barnaby said expansively, "I knew I could count on you. I've always known that there was a heart of gold beneath that—er—plain exterior. I knew I could depend on you to put aside personal considerations—"

"Don't try to make such a big thing out of it," Manning interrupted. "I said I'd do it. Now what is it you want?"

"You will be, my boy, before the day is over. You, of course, know, that for years the Federation has been bothered by Acrux and its satellite systems. They have constantly tried to stir up trouble among the member planets of the Federation, as well as trying to provoke incidents which might give them an excuse to invade us. Well, an Acruxian agent is now on Regulus II."

"Why tell me about it?" Manning asked. "Sounds like a job for the Federation police."

"As a matter of fact," Barnaby said in what he imagined was a confidential tone, "this is a pretty delicate situation and I doubt if the average policeman could handle it. Then, there are reasons why there might be complaints if the matter is handled by a regular government representative."

"What reasons?" Manning asked bluntly. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. "And while you're at it, you might also explain what your special angle is."

"My dear Manning, my only motivation is that of the responsibility of my great office—"

"Meteor dust," snapped Manning. "Tell me the whole thing or I'll let you go ahead and put me in jail."

When he saw that Manning wouldn't give in, the pained expression faded from J. Barnaby's face. "As a matter of fact," he said, "there is a slight political aspect to the problem. As you know, there is a galactic election coming up. I should like to continue to serve as Secretary of Planets, but this will be possible only if the Republocrats are re-elected. It looks as if it might be a close race."

"And what does that have to do with Regulus and the Acruxian agent you say is there?"

"Everything," J. Barnaby said simply. "Regulus was admitted to the Federation only recently. This will be the first election in which it has taken part. Their admission to the Federation was vigorously opposed by the Achernarian planets. It is the Achernarians who represent the greatest threat to us in the coming election."

"In a way. There is an Acruxian agent on Regulus and we have no idea what he is planning in the way of sabotage. But Regulus has very lax laws about political candidates and the Acruxian agent is also running for the office of Senator from Regulus. As an independent. Because of opposition to Regulus, the only other candidate for the office is a Republocrat. A native named Xelia Zon. In order to defeat the Acruxian, you may have to do something which will help the Republocrat candidate."

Manning frowned. "So that's why you can't use the cops," he said. "It's illegal for any government official, in that capacity, to help one candidate over another."

"That's it," J. Barnaby admitted. "If we used the police, it might provide the Achernarians with enough ammunition to defeat us. On the other hand, if we do nothing, the Acruxian agent may succeed in throwing us into war—either civil war or war with Acrux. That leaves it up to you, Manning."

"I've arranged for you to go as an election observer for the Republocrat Party. That's about the best I could do."

"Just a reminder that it's only a couple of days until elections," J. Barnaby said briskly. "I'll expect you to have the whole thing cleaned up before then. And, Manning...."

"When you've got the problem whipped into shape, if you can think of some way to give the solution wide publicity, it would be appreciated."

"You don't happen to have a short-handled star-duster, do you?" Manning asked. "We could tie it on the back of my ship and I could dust off a few stars while I'm doing the other things. I wouldn't want you to think I have too much spare time on my hands."

"I'll even laugh at your jokes," J. Barnaby said sourly, "if you clear this up for us. Now, if you'll excuse me, Manning, I have an appointment with the Ambassador from Altair...."

"And I remember when you only had appointments with people who wanted to buy life insurance," Manning murmured. He stood up. "Okay, father-in-law. Hold on to your striped pants." He turned and left the office.

As soon as he reached the spaceport, he blasted off. Once he was above the planet, he fed the co-ordinates of Regulus II into the automatic pilot and put the ship into magnidrive. Then he dug out an encyclotape on Acruxians and leaned back to listen to it. He could learn about Regulus when he got there, but he had a hunch he'd better find out about Acruxians before he tangled with one.

The Alpha Actuary came out of magnidrive and dropped slowly down toward the surface of Regulus II. Manning Draco stared at the landing screen and wondered if someone had been kidding him. On the entire planet there was only one building in sight and it was a modest dwelling no larger than the average mansion anywhere in the Federation. It certainly wasn't large enough to hold the population of a planet. Besides, its architecture was pure Terran.

There was a small spaceport near the single house and Manning set his ship down on it. He cut the power and threw open the air-lock.

There were two individuals waiting for him as he climbed out of the ship. The first was a Terran, a tall austere man, wearing the formal garb which was still so dear to the hearts of Terran politicians. His welcome was anything but warm.

"I suppose," he said, offering a limp handshake, "you're this Manning Draco person I was told to expect? The election observer, or some such thing?"

"Can't imagine why they send anyone—even an observer—to this miserable place," the man said, making no effort to lower his voice. "You're aware, of course, that I'm the Terran Ambassador?"

The Ambassador stared blankly back at him. "The Secretary of Planets telephoned me you were coming. I don't suppose he sent any word on my request to be transferred?"

The Ambassador sighed heavily. "Perhaps if I made a larger contribution," he murmured. "Is there anything I can do for you, Mr.—ah—what was your name?"

"Don't even try to remember it," Manning said. "I wouldn't want you to suffer any mental strain. Now, you just run along."

"I suppose this—ah—native is waiting to see you," the Ambassador said. He sniffed audibly. "Well, I really must be getting back." He turned and trotted rapidly in the direction of the house.

Manning grinned as he saw him go, then turned for his first look at a Regulusian.

The creature who faced him stood upright and was almost as tall as Manning. He wore a one-piece suit roughly similar to those worn by Terrans, although it was cut in the back to accommodate a long, round tail which was covered with short, silky hair. His hands, although still bearing a resemblance to paws, were very human-like and were also covered with silky fur. His face was rather pointed, with a receding forehead. The nose was by far the most prominent feature. Not only was it long, but on the very tip of it there were twenty-two light-pink fleshy fingers growing in the form of a star.[2]

"Yes," said the Regulusian, finally advancing. As he continued to speak, Manning noticed that he spoke Terran with almost no accent. "I would have introduced myself sooner, but your Ambassador is fond of the formal approach—through channels—and I did not wish to anger him. I am Xelia Zon, Mr. Draco."

"Call me Manning. I'm glad to know you, Xelia." He put out his hand and was somewhat surprised to find that the Regulusian had whipped his tail around and coiled it about his hand.

"I see you are surprised," said the Regulusian. "This is your first trip to Regulus?"

"So few of your people come here," Xelia Zon said. "Like you Terrans, we have the custom of establishing a physical contact on being introduced. You do this by shaking hands; we do it by shaking tails. I imagine that this developed because the tail is an important sense organ to us."

"Sounds logical," Manning said. By this time he was so accustomed to the many differences through the Galaxy that he seldom thought twice about any of them.

"I believe it is one of the things which disturbs your Terran Ambassador. In fact, he was heard saying that he disliked suddenly finding a tail in his hand."

"Nothing could be worse than that limp hand he offers," Manning said with a grin. "You know why I'm here?"

"To observe our election. Or so I was informed by the chairman of the party. I'm afraid there will be little to observe."

"If you're Xelia Zon," Manning said, "then you must be the candidate for Senator."

"I was," Xelia Zon said ruefully. "As of the moment, however, the party has no candidate for the Senate. That's why I say there will be little for you to observe. I was almost hoping that the party might decide to send some sort of Federation policeman, but I suppose that was out of the question."

"The Acruxian," Xelia said, nodding. "I'll tell you all about it, but why not wait until we reach your room. I took the liberty of making a reservation for you at our best hotel. Shall we go?"

"Where?" Manning asked. He looked around again at the sparsely-shrubbed, flat ground. "I meant to ask you about your cities. I thought I saw both sides of the planet as I came in, but I didn't see anything that looked like a city, or even a village."

The Regulusian smiled, showing even, pointed teeth. "You are standing directly over our capital city right now."

He led the way around the Alpha Actuary and toward a small kiosk which Manning had not previously noticed. They entered the kiosk, walked down a few steps and then into an elevator. The door closed as soon as they were in it and they lunged smoothly downward.

Xelia Zon nodded. "Not only our cities, but also our farms, and every other part of our civilization."

"Perhaps. More likely, tradition. We are evolved from a race which carried on its life beneath the surface of the ground, so I suppose we feel more comfortable there. Then, by now, there are many advantages. For example, we are able to get twice the yield on crops that we would on the surface."

"We plant on both the floor and the ceiling of the underground farm. As for sunlight, we grow many crops that don't require it at all, and for those that do we have methods of piping sunlight in underground—do you find the idea of living underground unpleasant?"

"Why should I?" Manning asked, shrugging. "Then that one house on the surface is our Ambassador's?"

"Yes. He flatly refused to live in Zeloha, the city to which we are going. The Ambassadors from the other Federation planets are all living in the city, although I suspect that some of them don't relish it either. You wonder, perhaps, why I tell you this?"

"I imagine you have your reasons," Manning said, "and when you're ready you'll tell them to me."

Xelia Zon nodded and the tiny fingers of the star on his nose flushed a darker pink.[3] "It is related to the reason you're here," he said. "I shall soon explain the connection."

The elevator stopped and the door slid noiselessly open. Manning followed Xelia Zon out onto a broad strip of concrete, brightly illumined by indirect lighting. Near the exit, there was a long, stream-lined vehicle which Manning guessed was a Regulusian car. This turned out to be correct for Xelia led the way directly to it and they climbed in. Xelia pressed a number of buttons and the car leaped forward. Manning could feel the pull of a powerful motor, but there was practically no sound.

Xelia turned the car into a broad street and they picked up speed. After a while, they began to see other cars on the street.

Within a few minutes they had reached the edge of the city. There were a number of buildings on either side which looked as if they might be stores. Most of the signs were in an unfamiliar script which Manning assumed was Regulusian, although there were a few in Terran and other Federation languages. The buildings were all only one storey high, and the architecture mostly looked like the upper half of an egg.

"I suppose," Manning said, "that one of the penalties of building underground is that you're restricted on how high you can make your buildings. Doesn't that make the city take up a lot of space?"

Xelia Zon grinned. "I'm afraid you're still thinking in terms of Terran culture. These buildings are all of fifteen or twenty storeys and we have many that are still larger. You see, here, the street floor is the top one. Everything is built toward the core of our planet instead of skyward as you build."

"I'm beginning to get it," Manning said. "Everything works just the opposite as with us." He grinned. "Tell me, is it true what they say about Regulusian women—" He broke off as he realized Xelia Zon wasn't getting it. "Never mind. It wasn't even a very good joke when it first started on Terra a long time ago."

"If you'll notice," Xelia said, "you'll see the burrow-ways running off the street and leading down to the last floor which is usually used for parking."

Manning saw the openings, looking like tunnels, angling down from each side of the street.

By this time traffic was fairly heavy and there were considerable Regulusians on the sidewalks hurrying about their business. Considering the size of the city, there were very few citizens from other planets.

Everywhere the street was bright with the same indirect lighting Manning had noticed earlier, but once they passed through a section where the quality of light was different, more like sunlight.

"It is sunlight," Xelia said when Manning asked him about it. "This is one of the sections to which we pipe sunlight from the surface. Most of the embassies from other planets are in this section and it is done here for their convenience."

Finally Xelia's car darted into one of the burrow-ways and began the descent. When he braked the car to a stop, they were obviously inside a building. There were a number of other cars parked on the floor.

"This," Xelia said, answering the expression on Manning's face before he could put it into words, "is the top floor—you would call it the bottom floor—of the hotel where you will stay." He opened the car door and stepped out.

Manning followed him. "By the way," he said casually, "are the Regulusians telepathic?"

Xelia Zon looked at him in surprise, then laughed. "Oh—you ask because I answered your question before you asked it? We Regulusians are very sensitive to expressions and attitudes. Quite often I have a good idea of what you're going to say just before you speak. But that's all. As you probably know, there aren't many telepathic races. The Martians, Rigelians, Sabikians, I believe, and Acruxians. Like many of the non-telepathic races, we Regulusians have natural barriers to telepathic readings."

Manning had already discovered this, but he only nodded as they entered an elevator.

"I've heard," Xelia continued, "that there is at least one Terran who is not only telepathic, but also has developed a secondary mind-shield, which is quite rare even among telepathic races. But, of course, this may be one of those rumors that get around."

Manning didn't bother to tell him that he was the one Terran who possessed this unusual mental equipment. He was certain that the Regulusian was trustworthy, but there was no point in taking chances. He had already learned that Acruxians were telepaths; if the Acruxian agent who was on Regulus didn't learn of Manning's unique ability, it might one day prove a slight advantage.

They stopped on the next floor and confirmed the reservation. Again, as they passed through the lobby, Manning saw that nearly everyone there was a Regulusian. He did catch sight of a couple of Vegans, a Capellan, and a Polluxian who was obviously a traveling salesman, but it was a small number of non-natives for such a large city.

Again they took an elevator. "This," said Manning as the elevator surged upward, "at least, is a familiar sensation. We're going up to reach the room."

"Actually," said Xelia with a smile, "we are going down, since we entered what we call the top floor."

"I've often been accused of not knowing down from up," Manning said dryly, "but this is the first time it's ever been proved."

Xelia chuckled as the elevator stopped. They followed the Regulusian bellhop down the corridor to a room. It was, Manning saw as soon as they entered, completely equipped for Terrans. This was not unusual in the Galaxy, but what was unusual in such a modern city was that Manning had not seen another Terran since they'd left the Ambassador on the surface. He commented on this to Xelia.

"Yes," Xelia said soberly. "We have provided many typically Terran conveniences, but very few of your race ever comes here. Those who do mostly react as your Ambassador. Would you care to join me in a drink? We also have Terran beverages."

"I'll have whatever you're having," Manning said. He was always inclined to try native drinks despite a couple of bad experiences. Once, on Praesepe I, it had taken two days to recover his voice after such an adventure.

Xelia ordered the drinks over a plain audiphone attached to the wall of the room.

Xelia shook his head. "We have no visicasts at all. I suppose that eventually we'll be getting sets since the Federation visicasts will now be beamed to us, but we Regulusians have always preferred actually being present at our entertainment instead of watching some reproduction of it." He smiled slightly. "We are, of course, considered backward because of this and because we have never tried to develop space flight."

A light blinked on the wall and a panel slid open, revealing their drinks. Xelia took the two glasses and handed one to Manning. It was filled with a cloudy purple liquid which was rather horrible to look at but which, Manning discovered, tasted very pleasant. He sipped the drink and waited for Xelia to speak.

"Since you've never been to Regulus," Xelia said finally, "I should like to explain something about my people. It has a bearing on the election and the Acruxian. As you know, our admission to the Federation was opposed by many, especially the Achernarians. Their feeling is based on the fact that Achernarians are evolved from various forms of insect life and there was a time when primitive Regulusians ate insects. That was, however, many generations ago. The Achernarians of today are quite different from the insects my ancestors found so delectable, and we have also changed. The protein life which we still eat has been carefully bred from a type of insect found only on Regulus. It is not an intelligent form of life and might be compared to the cattle you Terrans have bred for food."

Manning nodded. As an insurance investigator he had traveled over enough of the Galaxy to be familiar with the many prejudices that existed. "The Achernarians have sent an Ambassador here, haven't they?" he asked.

"Yes. No one ever sees him, but he's here. Now, Manning, you see we are hated and feared by a number of life-forms in the Federation. Then you Terrans—I hope you will forgive me if I speak frankly—are inclined to view us with something like contempt. The attitude of your Ambassador is an excellent example. I don't find this attitude in you, Manning, but it is what we've come to expect from most Terrans. As a result, there is a lot of anti-Terran, even anti-human, feeling on Regulus, as well as considerable anti-Federation propaganda."

At this Xelia nodded. "I was one of the leaders of the movement which led to Regulus joining the Federation. Not because I believe in accepting the way we're treated, but because I believe it is necessary for our own safety. I therefore favor co-operation, without accepting submission. Because of this, I have long been an object of attack from the anti-Terran and anti-Federation forces. Which brings us to the election. I was, as you know, the Republocratic candidate for Senator from Regulus. The other political parties did not nominate candidates here and I was the only one running until Dtilla Raishelle declared himself an independent candidate."

"Tell me one thing," Manning said. "How is it possible for an Acruxian to run for a Regulusian office? Acrux is not even a part of the Federation."

"True," Xelia said. "We, however, still have many antiquated laws on our statute books. In the old days, no one from other planets ever came to Regulus. So our laws state that anyone who owns property on Regulus is considered a citizen and may run for political office. Dtilla Raishelle bought a house when he arrived here a month ago."

"Completely. His platform is entirely anti-Terran and anti-Achernarian. From the beginning he had such strong support that I knew it would be difficult for me to win. Now it is impossible."

"I am no longer a candidate," Xelia said bitterly. His nose had faded to a pale pink which was almost white. "More of our ancient laws. Seldom enforced, we have laws which compel candidates to submit to various physical tests such as walking tightropes, juggling, and sleight-of-hand. It is also permitted for a candidate to challenge an opposing candidate to any sort of a personal test, or duel. When this happens, the loser, if still alive, must automatically withdraw from the political race. There is no choice. You cannot refuse the challenge and a loser cannot remain a candidate."

"If you know anything about Acruxians, you know of their fabulous strength. I had no chance. The duel was held last night in the Shaun Arena. Dtilla Raishelle is now the only candidate for Regulusian Senator."

"No. It would make no difference if we could. I'm sure no one would agree to run—otherwise they could declare themselves an independent. Besides, there is no Regulusian who is a match for an Acruxian and there would merely be another challenge. That's why I said there would be little for you to observe."

The more he heard, the more Manning Draco wished he was back in his own office with nothing more complex to worry about than the vacation problems of a honeymooning threesome from Sirius. "There is a feeling on Terra," he said slowly, "that this Acruxian may have more in mind than merely running for office. As a Senator from Regulus, he could be a nuisance, but that is all. Do you think he might have something else in mind?"

"I'm sure of it," Xelia said firmly, "but I have no idea what it is, I was suspicious of him when he first arrived. I asked our Central Security to give me complete reports on his movements. There is nothing in those reports which mean anything—unless he and the Achernarians are planning something together."

"Since arriving here, he has made a number of speeches and has attended parties which were held for political purposes. These are normal activities for a candidate. But he has also paid three visits to the Achernarian Ambassador."

"That's easily arranged," Xelia said. His tone indicated that he didn't think the meeting, or anything else, would accomplish much. "There's a political party tonight—to celebrate the Acruxian's forthcoming victory, as a matter of fact. You can go as my guest."

"Good," said Manning. He finished his drink. "After I've looked him over, I'd like to see the reports you had on him. Maybe we can figure out something. In the meantime, if you don't mind, I think I'll rest."

"Certainly," said Xelia, standing up. "I shall pick you up in about three hours. I trust you will rest well." He offered his tail for a brief shaking, then left. It was obvious that he liked Manning personally but had given up expecting anything that would help the situation.

Manning stretched out on the bed and went to sleep. He had a hunch that there might be little sleep between now and the election and he might as well get what he could.

Manning Draco was waiting in the hotel room when Xelia Zon came back that evening. He had awakened earlier and had dinner in his room so that he was ready to go. They went down (Xelia insisted it was up) and climbed into the Regulusian's car.

After a short drive through the city streets, Xelia stopped before an ornate private home. A formally-attired Regulusian butler met them at the door and conducted them to the elevator. They dropped down some ten floors where they were met by another servant. He led them through a number of well-appointed rooms and out into a splendid underground garden. It was filled with strange, beautiful flowers and shrubs and had piped-in sunlight.

The party was well under way, the guests being almost exclusively Regulusians. While he was not openly insulted, it soon became obvious that most of those present were anti-Terran. There were only a few who were friends of Xelia and were consequently friendly toward him.

Almost as soon as they'd entered the garden, Manning had noticed a group at one end of the garden. There was a creature in the center of the group, towering over them, who was undoubtedly the Acruxian. He guessed that Xelia had also caught sight of them, for they were slowly working toward that end of the garden.

They had just stopped a passing servant and snared two drinks from his tray, and were walking on toward the one group, when Manning felt a hand on his arm. "Well," said a husky voice, "this is a pleasant surprise."

Manning looked around, then did a double-take. At first glance, he thought she was a Terran. It was only when he looked much closer that he realized her head was covered with silky blonde fur instead of hair. But that was the only way in which she differed from a Terran girl. She had all the other Terran feminine attributes, in the right places and in the right amounts, adding up to one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen. Her figure was one which would make any man glad that the styles of 3473 featured a great deal of exposed skin.

"No, but you will," she said. Her voice had those husky tones that for many centuries had sent shivers running down the spines of Terran males. Her eyes, great golden orbs, seemed to contain the same quality—a nameless yearning to which men were drawn in the hope that they could satisfy it. "I had almost given up hope of seeing a fellow humanoid on this planet when you walked in."

She laughed, her voice like sensual music. "I can hardly say a fellow human, can I? I'm not human, you know."

Manning was trying to place her. There were a number of humanoid races throughout the Federation, notably the Martians and the Muphridians. They were remarkably like the humans of Terra, although their origins were usually quite different, although there was nearly always some one difference. Quite often, it was the hair. The Muphridians, for example, had feathers in place of hair. He was sure that this girl was from none of the places he had visited.

In the meantime, the girl was speaking again. "Xelia Zon," she was saying, "the least you can do is introduce me to your charming Terran friend."

"Manning," Xelia said, not especially happily, "this is Velmar Shonda. Manning Draco."

"You may," Manning said. "Where are you from? I don't think I've ever met anyone who looked exactly like you."

Manning had the feeling that there was something about the Aldebaranese that he should know, but it eluded him. He wondered what she was doing on Regulus and if it had any bearing on the reason he was there. He glanced at Xelia Zon and the latter must have seen the question in his face.

"I don't know what she's doing here," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "She has been here for about two months, I understand, although this is only the fourth or fifth time I've seen her."

The girl from Aldebaran laughed again. "Your Regulusian friend doesn't like me," she said. She managed somehow to make "Regulusian" sound like an unflattering word. "That is why he is so blunt, Manning. But I am here on a visit, just as you are. I came intending to stay only a few days, but the natives are so quaint I've stayed longer. I am what you Terrans call an anthropologist. It has been rather lonely, of course—but I can see that won't be true after tonight."

Marriage had worked several changes in Manning Draco. He loved Vega and liked being married to her. He had every intention of remaining faithful to her, not because the Terran tradition was as strong as it had once been but because he believed that a life with her could be complete. At the same time, he was a normal enough man to be flattered by Velmar's attitude and to have a certain amount of response to it.

"By the way," she said, "have you met the Acruxian who is here? Dtilla Raishelle?"

"Oh, let me introduce you," she said, urging him forward with her hand on his arm. "He is such a fascinating character."

"I can hardly wait," Manning said dryly. But he went forward under her urging and Xelia Zon kept pace with them.

As they neared the group which contained the Acruxian, Manning Draco controlled that part of his mind which worked in front of the secondary shield, so that it would seem that he was nothing more than another curious Terran. He knew that the Acruxian would probably try a brief mental probe and if his first response was no more than that he would probe no farther and so would not discover the secondary shield.

Velmar Shonda cleared a way through the little group until they stood in front of the Acruxian. "Manning," she said, "I'd like you to meet the distinguished Regulusian candidate for the Assembly of the Stars, the future Senator from Regulus, Dtilla Raishelle. Senator Dtilla, this is Manning Draco of Terra."

As he'd expected, Manning felt the mental power of the Acruxian nibble briefly at his thoughts. Then apparently satisfied, it withdrew.

"I am deeply honored," the Acruxian said in a booming voice, extending a tentacle. Like all Acruxians, he had difficulty in pronouncing the letter "r" but otherwise his Terran was impeccable.

"The pleasure is all mine," returned Manning. He reached out and grasped the proffered tentacle, immediately raising his hand high in the air in the Acruxian manner of shaking hands (or shaking tentacles, to be exact).

"Only to a small degree," Manning said modestly, not bothering to add that he had learned all he knew that afternoon from an encyclotape and this was the first time he had ever seen anyone from Acrux.

Dtilla Raishelle was a typical Acruxian. He stood seven feet tall, his huge cylindrical body supported on three sturdy legs. His body was dark gray in color and was bare except for a dark green fringed skirt, which was an Acruxian ceremonial dress. A holster, attached to the skirt, held a ceremonial tri-blast.[4] His head was a round knob, pale red, perfectly smooth except for a mouth opening and inverted ears which were covered by fine, sensitive hairs. He had four tentacles, two at waist level and two at shoulder level. Two eye-stalks reared several inches above his head.[5]

At the moment, the eye-stalks were sharply inclined toward Manning and there was an expression of suspicion in them. As the Acruxian very well knew, few ordinary Terrans knew anything about Acruxians. It had been many generations since anything but a merciless cold war had existed between Acrux and its satellites and the more dominant planets of the Federation.

At this moment, Manning spoke a few words in the quick, liquid Acruxian language—a ceremonial greeting of respect which he had learned that afternoon from a linguatape.

"You speak my language, too," Dtilla Raishelle exclaimed. His voice indicated pleasure, but the suspicion in his eyes deepened.

"Just that one sentence," Manning said. "My father was once space-wrecked near your home and I guess he picked up those few things which he taught me."

Once more he felt the Acruxian probe his surface thought, but he was prepared for it and the memory there was just as he said. The Acruxian suddenly relaxed, although there was still a touch of suspicion in his eyes. Just enough, Manning hoped. He didn't want to precipitate a contest with the Acruxian, but he did want him to be enough on guard so that he might later make a move which would help trap him.

It was then that Manning noticed the unusually large piece of luggage which sat on the ground beside Dtilla's feet. It was at least three and a half feet long and probably two feet high. It was made of some shining metallic plastic. There were tentacle-loops along the top for easy carrying.

"What's that?" Manning asked. "You're not leaving, are you—just when everyone says your election is a sure thing?"

"No," Dtilla Raishelle said. He hesitated and Manning could guess that he was trying to decide what sort of answer would be believed. Manning would have liked to try a swift mental probe, but knew it might be a serious mistake. Still, without even trying, he could feel mental waves of hatred which must be coming from the Acruxian. He was sure they weren't coming from the Regulusians or the Aldebaranese—he'd already discovered that she had a natural shield to telepathy. That left only Dtilla, unless—he quickly suppressed the thought for fear the Acruxian might catch it.

"This," Dtilla continued, indicating the box, "contains many of the rare, delicate perfumes of my home planet. I believe they are too subtle for most other life-forms, but they help to make my stay away from home more comfortable." His eye-stalks turned to survey the Regulusians. "I don't believe that I ever offered the details to you, my friends, having only told you that it was a custom of my people. I am sorry if my previous reticence has offended you in any way."

"Well," Manning said, "we mustn't interrupt your conversation with your friends any longer—"

"Think nothing of it," Dtilla Raishelle said, waving his tentacles. It was obvious that he was still mildly curious about Manning. "I have not seen many Terrans here. Are you on a business trip?"

Even as he was speaking, Manning decided to answer with part of the truth. He believed that he had convinced the Acruxian that he was a fairly ordinary Terran; now it was time to let him know that even so he might be an enemy.

"In a way," Manning said. "I'm here for the elections. As an observer—although I don't suppose there will be much to observe."

"I wouldn't think of interfering," Manning said. "I shall probably sit on the sidelines and hope that the best man wins."

"Inasmuch as I am the only remaining candidate in the Senatorial race," the Acruxian said, and his amusement was evident in the agitation of his eye-stalks, "I believe the identity of the best—er—man is a foregone conclusion."

"Maybe," Manning said. "But there's an old Terran proverb—which I just invented—that says there's many an obstacle between the loot and the tentacle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to devote more of my time to this young lady."

Pulling Velmar Shonda with him, Manning Draco walked away, conscious that the Acruxian was watching him with renewed interest.

As they left the Acruxian, Xelia Zon joined another group of Regulusians, while Manning and Velmar walked on and sat down beneath one of the umbrella-like shrubs.

"You shouldn't have been so hard on Dtilla," Velmar said. "He's really a fascinating creature and terribly brilliant and talented."

"I don't doubt it," Manning said. "Why are you defending him? Are you his girl friend?"

"Goodness, no," Velmar Shonda said, laughing. "I admire creatures like Dtilla and I confess I find his mind very stimulating. But that's all. We Aldebaranese are—constructed very much like Terrans and when it comes to the more intimate relationships in life, I much prefer a handsome Terran—like you."

This was a new experience for Manning. In the past, he had always met such advances more than half way. He knew what to do when a woman said no; he'd never learned how to say no himself.

"I like married men," Velmar Shonda declared. "Then, too, they are not so apt to become all squishy if there's a slight accident, and insist on marrying you."

"Er—" said Manning, which was not a brilliant beginning, but was all he could think of at the moment. Fortunately, he didn't have to think any further for Xelia Zon arrived at that moment.

"I'm sorry," he said politely, "but I think we'd better leave, Manning. You remember you wanted to make one other stop before we returned to the hotel."

"Of course," Manning exclaimed. He got to his feet, relieved, and his aplomb returned with the rescue. He looked down and grinned at the Aldebaranese. "I'm sorry, honey, but I have to run along. I'll see you soon."

"Sooner than you expect," she answered, and it seemed that the strange hunger in her eyes was stronger. "Goodby—for now."

At the offices of the Regulusian Central Security, Xelia Zon spoke to an official who was also a friend of his and a few minutes later they were in a small room with the complete reports on Dtilla Raishelle. Manning read them rapidly, but thoroughly.

"What's this?" he asked, stopping with a finger pointing to one paragraph. "Something about Dtilla and the missing Regulusians."

"It was a false lead," Xelia said. "For a time, they thought they had something on the Acruxian, but it didn't work out."

"A strange thing," said Xelia, frowning. "During the past six weeks or so a number of Regulusians—ten of them to be exact—have vanished mysteriously. No trace of them has been found at all. At first, it was thought that perhaps the Acruxian had murdered them, but then some of them vanished at times when he couldn't possibly have had anything to do with them."

"Maybe they were just murdered," Manning murmured, going back to reading the reports.

"Not unless they were murdered by outsiders," Xelia said. "We have no crime of any sort on Regulus. There has never been a murder committed by a Regulusian in the history of our race."

"Really?" Manning said, momentarily interested. "No wonder you have trouble fitting into the Federation." He bent over the reports again.

There was nothing in them that Xelia hadn't already told him. Dtilla Raishelle had made speeches and gone to political parties and he had made three visits to the Achernarian Ambassador. The rest of the time he had stayed in the house he'd purchased.

"I had hoped," Manning said as they handed the reports back, "that I'd find some reference to that piece of luggage Dtilla had with him tonight. I wonder if he carries it with him every time he goes out."

"He's had it every time I've seen him, but that doesn't cover all his activities," Xelia said. He looked at his friend, the official.

"The ones who made these reports," the official said, "are not on duty tonight. You might return tomorrow and ask them, if you like."

Manning nodded and turned away. Xelia Zon joined him and they left the building.

"Because he was lying about why he had it with him," Manning said. "I'm sure of that. I think he offered a story which he thought I would be willing to accept. Therefore, the luggage must in some way be important to his scheme, whatever it is."

"If you think it important," Xelia said, "perhaps we could trick him away from it long enough to let a Central Security locksmith get at it. We have some clever ones."

"It would be no crime, done by an official in the name of Security," Xelia explained. "Shall we try it?"

Manning shook his head. "It would only make him step up his schedule if it failed—and I'm sure it would. I believe that your locksmiths are clever, but I understand that Acruxians have a way with locks which is unmatched in the universe. They have a small tendril on one tentacle which permits them to read any lock. Not only can they pick locks anywhere, but they are able to build such intricate locks that they defy picking by anyone else."

Xelia was silent until they had almost reached the hotel. He seemed embarrassed when he finally did speak.

"I like you, Manning," he said, "so I hesitate to mention this—but aren't you exceeding your authority as a political observer? I know there are stiff penalties for interfering in any way with an election—which is what Dtilla Raishelle might claim—and I'd hate to see you get in trouble."

"Thanks, Xelia," Manning said. "No, I'm not exceeding it yet. As of this moment, I'm just curious and that hasn't as yet been outlawed. But I would like to know what our Acruxian is up to."

They arrived at the hotel and started through the lobby. They were almost to the elevator when they heard the desk clerk calling.

"Mr. Draco," the clerk said, "there was someone here to see you. It was rather peculiar—he insisted on asking all sorts of questions as to where you were and when you'd be back, but I could have sworn that he wasn't really listening to my answers. Even so, I had quite a time getting rid of him."

Manning looked at Xelia. The latter nodded. "I know the name. He is one of those who has been supporting Dtilla Raishelle and was with him there in the garden tonight."

Manning grinned. "I thought we might expect something. Dtilla doesn't think I represent much of a threat, but he doesn't want to take any chances. They're up to something."

"Should I call my friend at Central Security and ask him to keep a check on Chaun Cla?"

"It might be a good idea," said Manning. "I'll go on up to the room. Come up when you're through."

Manning laughed and went to the elevator. Arriving on his floor, he went down the corridor keeping a careful watch, but he saw nothing out of order. He listened at the door of his room for a minute, but heard nothing. There was some faint exotic perfume in the corridor.

He unlocked his door and went in. Velmar Shonda, the Aldebaranese beauty, was sitting in the room, amusement in her golden eyes.

"Hello, Manning," she said huskily. "I told you I'd see you sooner than you expected."

She shrugged. "One of the bellhops. They are susceptible to feminine wiles and money. I used both."

She stood up and came close to him. Her perfume washed over him like waves of desire.

"Manning," she said softly, "I know that most Terran men like their females to be receptive rather than aggressive. But I have no patience for the tricks of Terran females. I like you—why shouldn't I say so? I have been here two months without any male of my kind—"

She leaned closer to him, her breasts almost brushing his chest. Her parted lips were a deep red and he could glimpse the white teeth between them. Her eyes were like melting gold—plus that something else which was almost familiar, but not quite.

"Manning—" she said, knowing that he understood and that the rest didn't have to be said.

Although he never admitted it to anyone but himself, it was a struggle. If Xelia hadn't been coming to the room, Manning knew that he might not have had the peculiar strength that it needed to shake his head at what was being offered.

"Honey," he said as lightly as he could, "you're a beautiful hunk of woman. Maybe you're in the right room, but it's the wrong time. My friend will be here any minute."

"I can't," Manning answered and the regret in his voice wasn't all pretended. "It's important. He and I have to talk."

"There'll be other times, honey," he said. He didn't know whether he meant it or not; he did know that he had a feeling that it would be a mistake to make an enemy of her.

She straightened up and looked at him curiously. "There have not been many men who shook their heads at Velmar Shonda," she said. Then she shrugged and some part of the amusement returned to her eyes. "As you say, for now. But do not keep me waiting too long, Manning."

She was gone, leaving the room so silently that he was almost unaware of her going. But the air of the room was still heavy with her scent. Manning dropped heavily into the chair and loosened the collar of his one-piece suit.

The scent was still strong in the room when Xelia Zon arrived. Manning saw the fingers of his nose[7] twitch but he made no reference to the perfume.

Manning nodded. "Okay," he said. He grinned at the Regulusian. "I guess I ought to make arrangements for you to chaperon me day and night while I'm here. It might be safer."

Xelia Zon pretended to first notice the scent of perfume. "Velmar Shonda?" he asked.

"In person," said Manning. "Just being in the same room with her is like a post graduate course in seduction. If she's a fair example, no wonder Aldebaran industry is so far behind the rest of the Federation."

"I am not familiar with the Aldebaran civilization," Xelia said solemnly, but there was a discernible twinkle in his eyes.

"There's very little exchange between Aldebaran and the rest of the Federation and I'm beginning to understand why," Manning said. His face grew thoughtful. "You know, Xelia, the actions of Chaun Cla were like a delaying tactic. Do you suppose it was to help her get into my room? Could she be working for Dtilla Raishelle?"

"She might be. I believe that she has been very friendly with the Acruxian. And they did arrive here at about the same time."

"I thought of that," Manning said. "Still, why go through all that business with the desk clerk? She said that she bribed a bellhop to let her in and I think she was telling the truth. Maybe she is working for Dtilla, but Chaun Cla must have been covering up for something else." He was silent a moment, then got to his feet.

"I've just thought of something," he said quietly. "Maybe it was a three-way job. Velmar Shonda was in my room when I arrived. I assure you that was enough to keep me from thinking about anything else. Maybe that was the point."

"Let's search the room. And be careful, Xelia. There are some nasty species in the Galaxy and some of them may be concealed in here."

They covered every inch of the room without finding anything that shouldn't have been there. Although he hadn't been aware of working faster than usual, Manning was breathing hard and there was a strange ringing in his ears as he dropped into a chair.

"Maybe—maybe—" Xelia Zon seemed to be having trouble getting his words out and he was clawing at his neck.

As he watched the Regulusian, Manning realized that his own breath was getting shorter instead of improving now that he was resting. He struggled to his feet and crossed the room. The effort was almost too much, but he made it to the door and flung it open. He could almost feel the air pressure going up again.

There was something clinging to the other side of the door, but Manning ignored it for the moment. He leaned against the wall of the room and gratefully sucked air into his lungs. Across the room, Xelia Zon was doing the same, his nose slowly turning to its normal color.

"That was a close one," Manning said, finally straightening up. "A little more and I might not have been able to reach the door."

The thing on the door looked like a huge balloon covered with short fur. It was perfectly round, perhaps two feet in diameter, and at first glance seemed to have no appendages.

Manning looked at it with interest. "I never saw one before," he said, "but I suddenly remember hearing about it on the encyclotape. Come over here and look at it."

Xelia Zon joined him as he bent over to look at it. On closer examination, they could see that there was a small mouth which was glued to the keyhole. Even as they watched, the mouth muscles relaxed and the ball dropped slowly. It bounced on the floor once and then began floating out into the corridor. Manning reached out and grabbed it. He held it by the short fur and the ball slowly revolved as though the round, pursed mouth was searching.

"An Acruxian pet," Manning said. "It's native to Acrux and every Acruxian has at least one for a pet. Normally, they fill themselves with just enough air to float around. But if they're removed from Acrux, they become ravenous for air.[8] Only they can't suck up enough unless they find some sort of container with a hole about the size of its mouth. I guess these modern, air-tight rooms are perfect for them."

[8] The Heliumitis Acruxa is a small animal indigenous to the planets in the system of Acrux. It is a very simple organism, deriving all of its nourishment from air. Normally it keeps itself inflated to about a foot in diameter, constantly drawing in enough air to feed itself and to maintain that size. But if it is removed from Acrux, it immediately becomes obsessed with the desire to return and spends all of its time trying to obtain enough air to increase its size to the point where it can escape the gravity of whatever planet it is on. One Heliumitis has been known to create a complete vacuum in a space ship within a period of three hours and the destruction of at least one ship and its entire crew is known to have been so caused. In the early days, when Acrux was first discovered, a number of these creatures were taken to Terra. Immediately afterward there was an epidemic of flat tires on surface-cars and it was two weeks before it was discovered that the damage was due to the animals. Since that time, their possession has been outlawed on Terra, although in every other respect they are harmless.

"A pet?" Xelia said. He shivered. "That's not my idea of a pet. It could have killed us."

"I think that was the idea," Manning said. He bounced the Heliumitis on the floor like a basketball and caught it. "This, however, is about the only circumstance under which it would try to kill us, so we shouldn't blame it too much."

"Maybe both. No—it couldn't have been Velmar. The door was open when she left and remained open until you arrived. Besides," he added dryly, "she couldn't have been carrying it. She had no place of concealment this large. It must have been Dtilla or one of his friends. Probably hid on this floor, maybe in another room, and waited until we were in here. And that's probably the explanation of Chaun Cla. He was giving somebody the chance to sneak up here in advance."

"What about that thing?" asked Xelia, indicating the ball. "Hadn't we better turn it over to Central Security?"

"Why?" Manning asked. "It's harmless enough. That mouth is the only surface organ it has and it doesn't consume anything but air. You Regulusians drive surface-cars—you must have places where you can put air in your tires."

"That's it, then," Manning said. "We'll take it down and attach it to an air hose. When it's had enough air, it'll float away and we'll never see it again."

"I'm sure he did," Manning said, "but we wouldn't have a chance of proving it. The most we could prove is that he was careless in letting his pet get away. Since this is the sort of pet every Acruxian has, we couldn't prove that he brought it to Regulus for a sinister purpose. Even though a Federation court would lean on our side, Dtilla could just laugh us off. And it would be a big mistake."

"Since we couldn't prove anything, having him arrested would do nothing except give Acrux an excuse for declaring war against the Federation. If we handed Dtilla to the Federation, they'd drop him like a hot rocket."

"But why?" persisted Xelia. "Surely the Federation could win any war with Acrux and her satellites."

"Maybe," Manning said. "But I think the government is afraid that there might not be any Federation. You yourself have spoken about how the Achernarians feel about Regulusians. Well, you can multiply that over and over. Capellans hate the Polluxians, the Procyonese hate the Arcturusians, Vegans hate the Achernarians—and there are groups on Terra who hate everyone except themselves. All of this could make some little clambake.... Well, let's take bouncing-boy here downstairs for his airing."

Manning Draco was up early the following morning. After breakfast in his room, he went to the lobby and arranged to hire a car and driver. He knew that Xelia would have taken him anywhere he wanted to go, but he had at least one visit to make which would be more successful if he were alone.

When the rented car arrived, he directed the driver to take him to the Achernarian Embassy.

It was considerably larger than any other building he had seen, extending back from the street almost twice as far as the average Regulusian building.

Having the driver wait, Manning stood in front of a viewing plate and requested an interview with Seero Sna, Ambassador from Achernar. He identified himself as a political observer from the government and tried to imply that he was completely non-partisan. After a moment the door clicked open and a voice invited him to take the elevator to the lowest floor.

In terms of storeys, the building was also larger than the average. Manning counted twelve floors before the elevator stopped. As he stepped out, a voice asked him to walk through the house and into the garden.

It was then that he discovered that in one respect the house was smaller than he'd thought. From the street level it had seemed to be twice as long as the ordinary house; actually it was narrow, extending back the length of one room. Beyond that was the garden.

The garden was the biggest surprise of all. For a moment after stepping into it he could have sworn he was on the Achernarian planet. It was filled with the flowering shrubs and trees native to Achernar and the air was heavy with the scent of the blossoms. Above, it extended for the full twelve storeys. At the very top there was a transparent container in which there was a small nuclear machine creating subatomic energy. It was an exact duplicate of the Achernarian sun, built to scale so that the heat from it felt the same as if he had been standing under the real thing on Achernar. Although he could not look directly at it, its appearance seemed to be in perfect scale, too. Small artificial clouds floated lazily over the garden.

"Well, what do you want?" an irritable voice asked. This time there was no evidence of amplification, so he knew it was coming directly from the Ambassador. He looked around until he located the Achernarian stretched out in a sort of hammock beneath one of the trees.

Achernarians belong to the Hymenoptera order. That is to say that they are bees, in much the same sense that Terrans are primates. But quite different from any bees which Terrans had seen prior to space flight. The average Achernarian—and the Ambassador was considered an average political-type Achernarian[9]—was about two feet from end to end. He could walk upright or in the manner usually expected of insect life, being equipped with four feet, of which the two front feet could serve as an extra pair of hands when he chose to walk upright. What had once been the front feet, that is the third pair, had evolved into a pair of small hands with double thumbs, so that the Achernarians were the cleverest craftsmen in the Federation.

He still had wings although they were no longer strong enough to support his body. He wore a robe which bore the same gold and brown markings as his body. It was difficult to tell when he was dressed and when he was not.

The advantages which evolution had granted the Achernarians had been accompanied by certain disadvantages. One had been a weakening of their many-faceted eyes, so that the Ambassador, like most of those from his planet, wore glasses. What had been gained in intelligence had been lost in physical strength; in spite of this, they were among the most ferocious of Federation citizens, the Achernarian soldiers wearing atomic-powered armor which made them almost invincible.

"Hello," Manning Draco said when he finally located the Ambassador. "May your day be filled with blossoms." It was a stock expression of politeness.

"It might be if I weren't interrupted so often," the Ambassador snapped. It was also normal for Achernarians to be irritable; if Seero Sna exceeded the norm it was a result of having been sent to Regulus. "What do you want, Terran?"

"I am here to observe the election," Manning said. "Consequently, I am interested in the fact that an Acruxian is the sole candidate for the Senate from here. I understand that this Dtilla Raishelle has called upon you."

"Because he's an idiot," the Ambassador said waspishly.[10] "On his first visit, he wanted to arrange a trade agreement with us. He seemed to be rather proud of a type of blossom grown on his home planet and thought he could sell them to us. He had a sample with him. It was horrible. I told him so. Nobody can match the quality of Achernarian blossoms."

"That's certainly true," Manning said. "What about his second and third visits?"

"Same thing," grumbled the Achernarian. "He kept insisting that we could learn to like their blossoms. I don't know when I've met anyone so dense."

"Why should I? If I reported every idiot who approaches me, I'd get nothing else done."

"Didn't it occur to you that he might have been trying to get some other information out of you? Perhaps something inimical to the Federation or to Achernar?"

"Nonsense," snapped the Ambassador. "He was very nice. He was especially sympathetic to my position on this accursed planet. He'll probably make a very fine Senator."

"No doubt," Manning said dryly. "Did you happen to notice if he were carrying some sort of luggage? A rather large box, in fact."

The Ambassador thought a moment, crushing a handful of blossoms and waving them near his face. "I believe he was carrying some sort of covered box."

"Of course, I'm sure. I'm always sure. What's so important about a box?" He looked up at Manning with a shrewd expression in his eyes. "You think, perhaps, he's carrying around a ballot box which he'll switch for the official one on election day? If so, I trust you will remember that this is a practice which was started on Terra and, therefore, he could have learned none of the fine points of this art from me."

"I'll remember," Manning said, grinning. "By the way, don't you have any servants?"

"Do you think I would endanger their lives?" demanded the Ambassador. "Do you realize that these Regulusians are barbarians? Why, they've always eaten my kind and we Achernarians are not fooled by their claim that they've given up this horrible practice. They should never have been admitted to the Federation and I'm warning you—you may report this to Terra—that my planet is fully prepared to protect its citizens. An act of aggression will not go unanswered."

"Of course, I do. Do you think I'm a primitive? I'm tired of your questions, Terran. Go away. But don't forget to tell your Regulusian friends what I've said. Not a single act of aggression will go unanswered. Any attack on me, or my staff, will mean war."

"Be sure the door locks after you," the Achernarian called after him. "These Regulusian hoodlums would love to find me vulnerable."

Manning nodded and continued on his way without answering. He knew from experience that there was no point in arguing with an Achernarian. Once one of them got an idea, it took more than words to change it.

Out on the street again, he climbed into the car and asked the driver to take him to the spot where he and Xelia had come below the surface on the day before.

Again he had the driver wait and he took the elevator up to the kiosk. A moment later, he was in his ship.

First, he put through a visicall to his office on Terra. After finding out that business was going on as usual, he told his secretary some things he wanted her to send him immediately by carrier-jet. He turned on the receiver-beam in his ship and then put through a call to J. Barnaby Cruikshank over a tight-beam.

"Well, Manning, my boy," J. Barnaby said when the connection was made. "Everything all settled, eh? I knew you—"

"Everything isn't all settled," Manning interrupted. He quickly sketched in what he had learned, leaving out his guesses. He also left out any mention of Velmar Shonda.

"Then why are you wasting time calling me?" demanded J. Barnaby. "Don't you realize that tomorrow is election day? Get on the ball, boy."

"I want you on it with me," Manning said dryly. "There are a couple of little things I want you to do."

"Absolutely," J. Barnaby said. "I don't care what you do to him, you understand, as long as nothing can be proved against us. But it's imperative that the government not be involved."

"Sure," Manning said. "I suppose it would be all right if I went to prison, or something like that, as long as you're in the clear. Some day, J. Barnaby, I'm going to let you stew in the juice you're always cooking up for me.... What if I can have the Acruxian arrested?"

"No," J. Barnaby said explosively. "Unless he's caught red-handed in the commission of a very serious crime, he must not be arrested. It would have to be something so serious that the Acruxian government would have to refuse to recognize him. Any intent will not be enough."

"Okay, then. I want you to send a complete visicast crew here at once. They should be here in time to be set up and ready to make a Federation-wide visicast by eight tonight. Then you'll have to clear the time and see to it there are a number of spot announcements concerning a special visicast. We want as wide an audience as possible, especially on Achernar."

"I guess that can be done. But it better be worth it. There'll be hell to pay if all that preparation is made and nothing comes of it."

"Something will come of it," Manning promised. "Oh, another thing, J. Barnaby. You have any objections to me running for the Senate?"

"What? What kind of a hold-up is this? You know very well that the party has made all of its nominations long ago. The elections take place tomorrow—"

"Watch your blood pressure," Manning said with a grin. "I meant if I become a candidate for the Senate from Regulus."

J. Barnaby's face was still flushed with suspicion. "All right," he said. "But don't get any ideas—"

Next he put in a call to Vega. He had her hold young Barnaby up to the screen and listened in delight to the gurgling sounds which seemed perfectly intelligible to him. Then he told her that he'd probably be home some time the following day.

Manning knew that he would have to wait almost two hours before the carrier-jet would arrive. He dug through his library and found an encyclotape on Aldebaran. He put it on and turned the switch, adjusting the tape so as to skip the physical description of the system.

"... The people of Aldebaran Three are evolved from one of the two thousand known forms of the order of Chiroptera. Unlike those found in other parts of the Federation, however, they have become completely humanoid in the process of evolution. They have retained none of the physical characteristics of their order or genus, although many of their habits are still related to those of their primitive ancestors. It is believed that the Aldebaranese of the third planet are descended from the genus Phyllostomatidae since they are almost entirely fruit eaters. Judged by human standards, they are quite attractive, the females being especially beautiful. They seem to be sexually attracted to humans and other humanoid races and there are records of a number of mutually satisfactory unions. The Aldebaranese of the fourth planet are quite different in—"

Manning cut off the switch. He had been curious about Velmar Shonda, but she came from the third planet and there was no point in listening to the dry, academic description of her cousins on the other planets. He replaced the encyclotape with a musictape and settled back to wait for the carrier-jet.

Two hours later, a light glowed on the instrument panel of the Alpha Actuary, indicating that the carrier had come to rest in the receiver-lock. Manning waited a few minutes, then opened the inner door to the lock. He opened the carrier and took the two small packages it contained. One was a completely sealed canister which buzzed when he held it up to his ear. The other was a large bouquet of flowers, fresh-sealed so that they would keep indefinitely.

Putting the two packages in a hand-pack, Manning left the ship and went back to the kiosk. When he reached the underground level, he ordered the driver back to the hotel.

There were two people waiting in the lobby for him. One of them was Velmar Shonda. Her yellow eyes lighted up at the sight of him.

"Manning," she exclaimed, coming to meet him. She put her hand over his and the touch of her fingers was enough to make a man forget his good intentions. "I came to ask you to take me to a party. Afterward, I thought we could drive out in the country. There's a wonderful little place I've found and I'd like to share it with you."

Manning was acutely aware of her nearness, of the warm scent washing over him. He was also aware of Xelia Zon waiting in the background and the Memory of a voice saying, "No girls." A small part of him wanted to go with the Aldebaranese, while a greater part of him knew it would be trading larger happiness for a desire of the moment. He shook his head.

"Sorry, honey," he said, feeling as if he'd been saying nothing else. "Xelia Zon is waiting for me."

For a brief minute a new and harder expression crept into her golden eyes. "You're a strange man, Manning—" she said—"or a strong one."

When her meaning penetrated, Manning laughed. "I got news for you, sweetheart," he said, "but it'll have to wait. Run along now."

He watched the provocative swing of her hips as she walked away. Then he turned and joined Xelia Zon.

"You seem to be very popular," Xelia said dryly. "I, too, have been waiting for you. You have been busy?"

"I went up to the ship to call my wife." Manning grinned. "To assure her that I was resisting temptation. Now, I'd like to go talk to the Security officers who have been trailing Dtilla Raishelle."

Xelia Zon's tail twitched questioningly, but he said nothing as he led the way to his car. They drove directly to the Central Security offices, where Manning spent the next hour talking to the two officials who had followed the Acruxian since he landed on the planet. After considerable prodding, they did remember that his box had been covered each time he'd called on the Achernarian Ambassador. They couldn't remember having seen it covered at any other time.

When they left Central Security, Manning asked Xelia to take him to the nearest Regulusian real estate office. After listening patiently to a long sales talk on the advantages of the better residential sections, Manning bought a house. He gave the agent a certified credit-draft and they left.

"How long," he asked Xelia, "will it be before the purchase of the house will be officially registered?"

"Probably within a few minutes. He'll make an official deposit of the transfer as quickly as he can for fear you'll change your mind—since he charged you about twenty per cent more than the property is worth. As soon as the deposit is made, the registry is flashed in all realty offices throughout the planet and you'll be recognized as a resident of Regulus. But why?"

"I want to become a candidate for the Regulusian Senate seat," Manning said. "How do I go about this?"

"Why?" asked the astonished Xelia. "Tomorrow is election day. Even if you could overcome my people's antipathy to Terrans, there isn't enough time to reach all the voters. You forget that we have no visicasting system."

"Something like that," Manning admitted. "Actually, whether I'm elected or not is only a by-product. How do I become a candidate?"

"Well," Xelia said, "there are several ways. Let's see...." He raised one hand to glance at the finger-time. "One method is to have a supporter declare your intention at any organized political meeting. There is one being held very shortly at the home of Brono Pia."

"Probably. Brono Pia is one of his supporters. But—but, Manning, you can't be serious about this. You must know that no Terran has a chance against an Acruxian. Do you have a plan?"

"Of sorts," Manning said. "I think I know what is in Dtilla's precious box and it isn't perfume even though it smells. And I think I know his plan."

"It's simply a matter of knowing the value of p to the k power," Manning said, grinning.[11] Obviously he was not going to say any more. "Now, let's go to the party. Will you be my supporter and declare my intentions?"

To Manning's unpracticed eye, the house to which they went looked exactly like the one they had gone to the day before. Again they were met by a butler who escorted them to an elevator and when they reached the lower floor they were met by another servant who led them to a garden with piped-in sunlight. There seemed to be the same crowd there, clustered in little groups. He caught a glimpse of Velmar Shonda, who interrupted her conversation to stare at him with her searching golden eyes, and at one end there was Dtilla Raishelle, surrounded by admiring Regulusians.

The Acruxian caught sight of them as they entered the garden and waved a tentacle in their direction. There was nothing in his manner to indicate that he had made an attempt to eliminate Manning and had failed.

"He seems to have taken last night's failure calmly," Xelia said, keeping his voice down. "You know, I was sure that he'd try again before this."

Manning shook his head. "According to the encyclotape, Acruxian psychology doesn't work that way. They're very apt to make some clever attempt at assassination over the slightest suspicion that you're an enemy, but if that fails—and it doesn't very often—they believe it constitutes a judgment from their gods and then they sit back and wait for you to make the next move. When you do, they're usually more than ready and they seldom fail on the second try—which then proves that the gods have changed their mind. So Dtilla is waiting to see what I intend to do. If you'll go make the announcement, I'll stroll over and try to oblige him."

Leaving Xelia, Manning strolled across the garden, being sure to give wide berth to Velmar. He moved leisurely, trying to time his movements according to Xelia's progress.

"And yours," Manning returned politely. Glancing around, he saw Xelia and another Regulusian, who was obviously the host, going to a small stand in the garden. Manning thrust his way through the group that stood around Dtilla Raishelle. As he offered his hand, he glanced down and made sure that the same box reposed on the ground beside the Acruxian.

Dtilla reached out and coiled a tentacle about Manning's hand. "It is a pleasure to meet a political observer so astute," he said. There was no doubt that he was referring to the night before. If there could have been he soon removed it. "I shall miss my little pet, but the gods have truly noted your greatness."

"Thanks," Manning said. Then, still holding Dtilla's tentacle, he kicked as hard as he could against the side of the box on the ground.[12]

Manning couldn't be certain, but it seemed to him that the box almost tipped over and that the tipping started even before his foot reached it. He also thought that the top of the box started to rise just before two of the Acruxian's tentacles clamped down on it. But whether he was right or not wasn't important; the reaction of Dtilla Raishelle was.

"Dtona grooush!" he shouted angrily. No one there could understand the shout, since it was not in Acruxian but in some obscure dialect, but it was obviously either a curse or a command. At the same moment, the tentacle which still held Manning's hand tightened in an almost bone-crushing grip. There was an expression of murderous anger in the eye-stalks as they inclined toward Manning.

"Your attention please," another voice called out, interrupting the Acruxian. It was the Regulusian host and he seemed amused. "Our good friend, Xelia Zon, wishes to make a declaration of political importance. You will kindly give him your attention." He stepped down from the small stand and Xelia Zon took his place.

"My friends," said Xelia, "I have come before you this afternoon to place in nomination for the office of Regulusian Senator to the Assembly of Stars of the Federation the name of that stalwart son of Terra, that friend of the people, that intrepid defender of Regulusian rights—Manning Draco!"

"So," exclaimed Dtilla Raishelle, once more bending his angry eye-stalks toward Manning, "not only have you insulted me in a more despicable fashion than I have ever been insulted before, but you also dare to oppose my election. It will give me great pleasure to challenge you to a duel which must be held before the election. You are challenged to meet me tonight in the central Arena."

"I accept," said Manning, disentangling his hand from the tentacle which still grasped it. "As the challenged party, I believe I have the right to name the method by which the duel will be fought."

"That is correct," the Acruxian said. He waved his tentacles angrily. "But understand, Terran, in regard to the political aspects of our duel, almost any of the legal tests of Regulus will do, but since a personal insult is also involved I warn you that the duel must be such as to satisfy my honor."

"I'll satisfy your honor," Manning said dryly. "I suggest a duel by tri-blast." He indicated the three-barrelled weapon in the holster attached to the Acruxian's skirt as the surrounding Regulusians gasped. "I trust you have a spare weapon with you so that I may be accommodated in the duel?"

"I have a spare tri-blast," Dtilla said. There was speculation mixed with the anger in his eyes.

"As you must know, the tri-blast is the best method of satisfying honor," Dtilla said. "Are you familiar with the weapon?"

"No, but I imagine I can become so. Sufficiently for the purpose. Shall we say at eight o'clock tonight?"

The Acruxian nodded. Both the speculation and the anger had melted before the pleasure of his anticipation. It was evident in his eye-stalks and the slight trembling of his tentacles. "That will be fine," he said. "You understand that should you survive, defeat still forces you to withdraw as a candidate?"

"Oh, I understand it," Manning said cheerfully. "Do you?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and marched toward the house. Xelia joined him when he was about half way across the garden. Out of the corner of his eye, Manning saw Velmar Shonda leave the group she was with.

"Can you walk a little faster?" he said to Xelia in an undertone. "I don't feel up to facing that wench just now."

They reached the elevator ahead of her and as the door closed Manning saw that she was giving up the chase.

"Do you really intend to go through with this?" Xelia asked as they reached the street.

Manning nodded. "I was pretty sure earlier that I knew what Dtilla was up to," he said. "Now, I'm positive. I think this is about the only way to stop him safely."

"But do you know what you're getting into?" persisted Xelia. "If those blade-guns can amputate all three legs of an Acruxian at one shot, you can imagine what it will do to you. You don't even know how to use the weapon!"

"Do you really think," Xelia asked in amazement, "that you can kill him or cripple him first?"

"I don't think anyone will be killed or crippled," Manning said lightly. "As near as I can understand, Acruxian honor is a very tricky affair, but there is one out. I'm going to time it to give Dtilla a chance to take that out and I think under the circumstances he will. Now, I want you to do a couple more things for me, if you will, Xelia."

"There's a visicast crew on its way here. They'll probably land in the next hour or so. Will you meet them and help them to make any necessary arrangements so that the duel between Dtilla and myself can be visicast? Is there any way we can make sure of having a large crowd there tonight?"

"There are always large crowds at challenges. It'll be especially large tonight because of the nature of the duel. You can be sure that everyone will know about it.

"Good. Now, one more thing. Get in touch with your friend at Central Security and have him call off the two officers who have been trailing Dtilla."

"I'm sure Dtilla knows about them and I want him to feel particularly free tonight. Will you do it?"

"If you say so, Manning," Xelia said doubtfully. He looked as if he weren't sure that Manning hadn't blown a jet.

"No, I haven't gone crazy," Manning said, grinning. "You see, you Regulusians aren't the only ones who can read expressions. Now, run along. You can pick me up at the hotel in time for the duel."

Manning grinned again. "I'm going to double-lock my door against visiting Aldebaranese females and get some rest."

It was a little before seven-thirty when Xelia Zon picked up Manning Draco. He assured him that the visicast crew was all set up in the Arena and everything was ready. They climbed into Xelia's car and drove to the Arena.

It was a huge place with a seating capacity of several hundred thousand.[13] It was already packed with Regulusians when Manning arrived. The center of the Arena, perhaps four or five hundred yards in diameter, was brilliantly lighted with the portable floods brought in by the visicast crew and the cameras were already focused and waiting for the signal from the emergency booth established in the first tier of seats.

Dtilla Raishelle, still carrying his large box, was already there, his green skirt bearing the ceremonial feathers worn by every Acruxian when dueling. He was not exactly pleased to learn that the duel was to be visicast over the Federation network, but there was nothing in the dueling code to prevent this and he accepted it with ill grace.

He carried his pair of tri-blasts in a handsome case and according to tradition offered Manning first choice. Manning carelessly took one of them and examined it until he was sure that he knew how it operated. Then he thrust it in his belt.

Taking the remaining blade-gun, Dtilla Raishelle picked up his box and moved stolidly into the center of the Arena. Manning Draco waited until he caught a nod from the man in the emergency booth, then he picked up his small hand-pack and walked to the center of the Arena, stopping a few yards away from Dtilla. He knew that the visicast had already started and that an announcer in the booth was explaining the scene to the billions of viewers.

As soon as Manning reached the center of the space, Dtilla Raishelle placed his box on the ground. He lifted the tri-blast and saluted Manning, then began a complicated dance, his tentacles weaving. It was a performance dedicated to the Acruxian gods and preceded every Acruxian duel to death. Manning had heard it described on the encyclotape, but it was fascinating to see it. He knew it would last about three minutes and that no Acruxian could honorably kill or maim until the dance was finished. Once it was completed, however, there was no way an Acruxian could withdraw from a duel; until it was over there were a number of proscribed emergencies which would permit him to honorably quit the field.

Manning knew he had no more than about two and a half minutes in which to act—and he'd really be out of luck if his guess was wrong. Manning began a peculiar dancing motion of his own and suppressed a grin as he caught sight of the announcer's face in the emergency booth. Manning was doing a rough imitation of an ancient Terran tribal dance he had once seen on an ancestor-film. He knew that the announcer had been gaily explaining the ceremonial dance of the Acruxian, but was being completely baffled by the prancing of his fellow Terran.

He saw Dtilla glance curiously at him once, but that was all from him. Manning had gambled on the chance that the Acruxian had never before duelled a Terran and so would be willing to believe that they too had ceremonial dances.

As he danced around, drawing ever nearer to the box on the ground, Manning Draco unfastened the opening of his hand-pack and took from it the fresh-sealed flowers. He broke the seal and began to strew the flowers around. Seemingly by accident, when he'd finished, the flowers formed a circle around the box that belonged to the Acruxian.

Manning removed the second package, broke the seal and threw it on the ground near the flowers. As it struck the ground, the canister split into two sections.

At that moment, Manning motioned to those in the booth and a super-spot was thrown on the circle of flowers as one of the overhead cameras swung in for a close-up. It was just in time to catch the sight of a number of tiny objects rising swiftly from the two halves of the canister. They hovered there a moment, then spread out and approached the flowers. The microphones picked up the steady buzzing sound.

Manning Draco cast aside the hand-pack as he moved backward. Then he drew the tri-blast and waited.

Although no one in the Arena, or among the billions viewing it at home, knew what was happening, a tense hush fell over them. There was such an air of suspense that the Acruxian felt it and faltered in his dance.

So slowly that at first no one believed it was happening the top half of the big box in the center of the flowers began swinging upward. The first one who was sure of what he saw was the Acruxian.

"Dtona grooush," he shouted. He shouted something else in the same tongue; he had started to run toward the box, then halted as he realized that his dance had carried him too far away.

The top of the box continued to rise, slowly as though someone, or something, didn't want to attract attention.

Then the top was all the way up and there was a wind-like sound as thousands of Regulusians released their pent-up breath. Many light years away, other viewers tensed in front of their visiscreens.

What came out of the box was undoubtedly a bird, but unlike one ever seen in the Federation. From head to tail it was a good three feet long and, standing, it was about two feet tall. Its feathers were brown and white, with a black stripe running across its eyes like a mask. What had once been wings were now wing-like arms ending in a pair of three-fingered hands. There was an intelligent cruelty in its yellow eyes. A strange-looking harness was strapped around its body and in it there was a needle-sharp weapon.

As the bird came out of the box, it had eyes only for the small objects which buzzed around the flowers. Its head shot out again and again and each time its beak closed on one of the buzzing objects.

Manning Draco shouted and the bird glanced up. It looked at the man who stood before it and its beak yawned widely. There was a brief glimpse of a double row of teeth. Then it moved toward him, its eyes bright with intent. One hand crept toward the weapon in its harness.

Manning Draco fired the tri-blast. There was a sharp energy recoil and then the three blades struck the bird. It cried out something in the strange dialect the Acruxian had used and tried to dodge at the last moment, but it was too late. Feathers swirled in the air and then it went down, neatly sliced into four parts.

The cameras followed Manning Draco as he walked over to the dead bird and they moved in for a close-up. Off to one side, Dtilla Raishelle, reduced from co-star to extra, was ignored.

Manning scooped up one of the small objects, wincing slightly as it stung him. Then he held up the brown and gold bumblebee so that it could be seen.

"Citizens of the Federation," he said, "the creature which I just killed in self defense was a Denebian, probably evolved from something very similar to the Terran Shrike, or Butcher Bird. Although the dominant form in their system, the Denebians are a completely ruthless life form, especially destructive towards all form of insects. This Denebian was brought to Regulus by an Acruxian agent and kept concealed in that box. During the past few days, the Denebian was permitted no food. It was planned to turn the Denebian loose in the Achernarian Embassy here, believing that inevitably the killing of the Achernarians would be blamed on the Regulusians and cause civil war in the Federation. This—"

Suddenly there was an interruption which Manning Draco had not planned. Velmar Shonda came running out into the Arena and threw her arms around Manning.

Up in the emergency booth, the announcer quickly began an excited commentary on what they had just seen, while the cameras swung around to focus on the Acruxian. But he was no longer in the Arena.

In the meantime, with the aid of a couple of attendants, Manning succeeded in prying the Aldebaranese away from him. His mouth stung and wiping his hand across it, he discovered it was bleeding. Velmar Shonda had bitten his lip.

The announcer in his booth finished his comments and the visicast was switched back to the home studios where another announcer was ready to more clearly tie this incident in with the galactic situation.

At that moment, a Vegan, in the uniform of the Federation Patrol, came running onto the field. As he neared them, there was a shrill scream from Velmar Shonda. She broke away from the attendants and started to run. But she didn't get far.

The Vegan patrolman drew a large-barrelled gun from his holster and fired. Velmar Shonda threshed around inside a force-net that held her prisoner.

"I was on patrol just above this planet," the Vegan explained, "and I was watching the visicast from here when she ran out and attacked you. I blasted down and got here as fast as I could, but I don't mind admitting I was scared she'd get away."

"Attacked me?" Manning said. "I'm afraid you've made a mistake, officer. All she did was kiss me."

The Vegan shook his head. "Your lip is bleeding isn't it?" Manning nodded and the Patrolman went on: "It was an attack, sir. I know this one. She's Velmar Shonda from Aldebaran Four. We've been looking for her for two months."

Manning was dazed. "Did you say Aldebaran Four? She said she was from the third planet."

"She's from the fourth one, sir. Oh, they look a lot like the Aldebaranese on Three—except for the golden eyes. You can always tell them by that."

"But—but," stammered Manning, remembering, "the encyclotape said that the inhabitants on the fourth planet are very different...."

"They are—in their habits," the Patrolman said grimly. "This baby eats nothing but blood and she could drain you in about an hour."[14]

[14] As Manning would have learned if he hadn't been so impatient to turn off the encyclotape, the inhabitants of Aldebaran Four, while also belonging to the order of Chiroptera, are evolved from the genus Desmodus rotundus, vulgarly known on Terra as the Vampire Bat. They are exclusively blood eaters, preferring the blood of primates and in modern times having a special preference for the blood of humans. For this reason, their planet had been in strict quarantine, but Velmar Shonda had somehow escaped and hid out on Regulus. Having maintained the feeding habits of their primitive ancestors while they had physically evolved along humanoid lines, it was little wonder that the females like Velmar were known as Vampires in every sense of the word.

"If that's true," Xelia Zon said excitedly, "then that must account for the Regulusians who have been vanishing."

"If any of you have been vanishing," the Patrolman said, "then this baby is probably the reason for it. She's got a big appetite. Boy, am I glad I found her. Well—"

Another Regulusian came rushing up. "The Acruxian," he exclaimed. "He's escaped!"

"He can't get far," Xelia said grimly. "He didn't have a ship here. Unless he steals your ship, Manning."

"An Acruxian?" the patrolman asked. "I saw one on the surface as I came in. There was another ship coming in from one of the satellites of Regulus. Come to think of it, it looked as if it might be under remote control."

"I thought he'd have a ship hidden somewhere," Manning said. "He's gone, then." He sounded cheerful.

"Okay. I'll be getting in with my prisoner. She ought to get me a promotion. And thanks, chum, for letting her bite your lip, so I could see her."

"Think nothing of it," Manning said, rubbing his lip, as the patrolman went away, dragging Velmar still in the force-net.

When it was all over, Manning realized that he was tired. He didn't feel like the trip back to Terra, so he went to the hotel and went to bed. He slept the sleep of the just and by the time he awakened the following morning, he was the duly elected Senator of Regulus. There was quite an official party to see him off.

It was midday when Manning Draco landed back on Terra. He took an air-cab to his pent-estate and went eagerly into the house. He wondered why Vega hadn't come to meet him, but then he thought she hadn't heard the cab arrive.

She was in the sun room. Manning bounded into the room and threw out his arms. "Hi, honey," he said.

"Hey," he said. "What's the matter? I'm home. Is there something wrong with Barnaby, or what?"

Ouch! He'd forgotten that Velmar's capture hadn't been visicast; he'd even forgotten that Vega might have been watching the 'cast.

"Wait a minute," he said indignantly. "You got me all wrong. I couldn't stop her from running out and kissing me like that when I didn't even know she was coming. Besides, she wasn't kissing me—she was biting me."

"You bet it was. A Federal Patrolman arrived right afterwards to arrest her. She'd escaped from Aldebaran Four. Hey, don't you understand. She was a vampire from that quarantined planet. All she was out for was blood—not me."

"So you invited her up to your room to see your veins," Vega said. "Etchings—veins—what's the difference?"

"I'll say you have," Vega said bitterly. "Billions of them. Do you know how many women called up to see if I'd been watching the visicast? And to think that I had to be holding little Barnaby up to look at the screen at that very moment."

"Look, honey, that dame—hell, you couldn't even call her a dame—was really dangerous. She was helping Dtilla Raishelle, but on the side she'd already helped herself to ten Regulusians. I was next on the list—"

Just then the door-announcer chimed. Before either of them could go to answer it, they heard the door open.

J. Barnaby appeared a moment later, his face beaming and his clothes looking so well-groomed he was hardly recognizable. "Manning, my boy," he said expansively, "you did it."

"You were magnificent," J. Barnaby continued before Manning could say anything. "I've read all the reports and you were never better. The way you reasoned that Dtilla Raishelle visited the Achernarian Ambassador three times in order to familiarize himself with the lock so he'd have no trouble picking it when he returned to toss that Denebian inside—it was superb."

"And," interrupted J. Barnaby, "I will never know how you managed to figure out that the Acruxian was carrying a Denebian in that box, or how you knew the Denebian could see through the box. It was superlative!"

"Oh, it wasn't much," said Manning, caught off-guard for the moment. "I knew that the Acruxians had used Denebians before and the fact that Dtilla covered the box when he went to the Achernarian Embassy made it easy to guess the box was made with one-way-vision plastic. After that, it was only a matter of learning the value of (n-k)! and—to hell with (n-k)!! J. Barnaby, you've got—"

"My boy," interrupted J. Barnaby, "we owe you more than we can ever pay you. Not only did you handle the matter so that the Acruxians can't make any complaint, since Dtilla escaped, but the Achernarians were so impressed by the visicast that most of them voted for our party instead of their own. It was a Republocrat victory by a landslide."

"I knew the minute I heard of the problem," J. Barnaby said expansively, "that Manning Draco was the boy who would soon have the situation well in hand."

"J. Barnaby," Manning said desperately, "you've got to tell Vega about that Aldebaranese. She refuses to believe me and—"

Manning Draco stared at his father-in-law in amazement. Then anger took over. "So," he said, "you owe me more than you can ever pay me, do you, you old, double-crossing Spican termite. I've put up with a lot from you, J. Barnaby Cruikshank, but I'll get you for this where it hurts if it's the last thing I do. I'm a member of the Senate now and when I take office I'm going to start a campaign to get a new Secretary of Planets."

"That's what I dropped in about," J. Barnaby said. "It seems that you are no longer a Senator."

"My boy," J. Barnaby said paternally, "while you were on Regulus, you should have paid more attention to the—er—sexual habits of the Regulusians."

"Everything. Regulusians consider sex as a very serious game, sort of a battle of the sexes as it were, just as they do everything else. It is not a separate part of their lives. Therefore, a sexual challenge is judged just the same as any other challenge. It is known all over Regulus that this Aldebaranese—Velmar Shonda, or some such name—constantly challenged you in a sexual way and that you just as constantly refused to accept the challenge. Why, you even blatantly shoved her away from you in the Arena—calling on two attendants to help you in this unmasculine action—in full view of several hundred thousand Regulusians."

"Unfortunately, my boy, as a result of refusing a challenge—you may recall the laws about a political candidate refusing challenges—your election was questioned. The Regulusian Lower Court—the highest in the land, by the way—ruled against you. They couldn't have done otherwise considering the evidence. Luckily, by the use of a little influence, we were able to have a good Republocrat, Xelia Zon, appointed to finish your term."

But neither Manning nor Vega heard his last sentence. They had turned to look at each other as they realized the meaning of what he was saying.

"Oh, darling," said Vega as she came into his arms, "I'm so sorry. How could I have ever doubted you?"

For once, Manning was smart. He didn't even try to answer that question. Instead, he bent his head and kissed her.

When they came up for air, several minutes later, neither of them spoke. They stared deeply into each other's eyes, then, moved by a common thought, they turned and walked in the direction of their bedroom.

They didn't even hear J. Barnaby Cruikshank chortling happily as he let himself out of the house.

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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Whistle stop in space

WHISTLE STOP IN SPACE

A Novel by
KENDELL FOSTER CROSSEN

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Whistle stop in space

WHISTLE STOP IN SPACE

A Novel by KENDELL FOSTER CROSSEN

THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE

A Novel by
KENDELL FOSTER CROSSEN