Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 44: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

42 Roki glanced at him curiously. The cap- tain was brimming with ill-concealed curio- sity. Why? “Occasionally, yes.” The captain chewed his lip for a moment. “Tell me,” he blurted, “will the Solarian ships stop for your patrol inspections?” Roki hesitated for a long time, Then he said, “I suppose that you and I could get together and share what we know about Sol without revealing any secrets of our own governments. Frankly, I, too, am curious about Sol.” The official, whose name was WeJan, was eager to accept. He scrawled a peculiar series of lines on a scrap of paper and gave it to Roki. “Show this to a heliocab driver. He will take you to my apartment. Would dinner be convenient?” Roki said that it would. The girl remained in her quarters when they landed. Roki knocked at the door, but she was either stubborn or asleep. He left the ship and stood for a moment on the ramp, staring at the hazy violet sky. Fine grit sifted against his face and stung his eyes. “You will be provided goggles, suitable clothing, and an interpreter to accompany you during your stay,” said WeJan as they started toward a low building. But Roki was scarcely listening as he stared across the ramp. A thousand yards away was a yellow-starred mercy ship, bearing Solar markings, The most peculiar thing about it was the ring of guards that surrounded it. They apparently belonged to the ship, for their uniforms were different from those of the base personnel. WeJan saw him _ looking. “Strange creatures, aren’t they?” he whispered confidentially. Roki had decided that in the long run he could gain more information by pre- tending to know more than he did. So he nodded wisely and said nothing. The mercy ship was too far away for him to decide whether the guards were human, He could make out only that they were bipeds. “Sometimes one meets strange ones all right. Do you know the Quinjori—from the other side of the galaxy?” “No-—no, I believe not, Quinjori?” “Yes. A very curious folk. Very curious indeed.” He smiled to himself and fell silent. Perhaps, before his visit was over, he could trade fictions about the fictitious Quinjori for facts about the Solarians. E_ Roki. ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION Roki met his interpreter in the space- port offices, donned the loose garb of Tra- gor, and went to quibble with repair service. Still he could not shorten the promised-time on the new synchros. They were obviously stuck for a week on Tragor. He thought of trying to approach the Solarian ship, but decided that it would be better to avoid suspicion. 3 Accompanied by the bandy-legged inter- preter, whose mannerisms were those of a dog who had received too many beatings, Roki set out for Polarin, the Tragorian capitol, a few miles away. His companion was a small middle-aged man with a piping voice and flaring ears; Roki decided that his real job was to watch his alien charge for suspicious activities, for the little man was no expert linguist. He spoke two or three of the tongues used in the Sixty-Star Cluster, but not fluently. The Cophian de- cided to rely on the Esperanto of space, and let the interpreter translate it into native Tragorian wherever necessary. “How would E Roki care to amuse him- self?” the little man asked. “A drink? A pretty girl? A museum?” ! Roki chuckled. “What do most of your visitors do while they're here?” He won- dered quietly what, in particular, the Solarian visitors did. But it might not be safe to ask, “Uh—that would depend on nationality, sir,” murmured Pok. “The true-humana foreigners often like to visit the Wanderer, an establishment which caters to their business. The evolved-human and the non- human visitors like to frequent The Court of Kings—a rather, uh, peculiar place.” He looked at Roki doubtfully, as if wondering about his biological status. | “Which is most expensive?” he asked, although he really didn’t care. Because of the phony “observation mission papers,” he could make Colonel Beth foot the bill. “The Court of Kings is rather high,” Pok said. “But so is the Wanderer.” “Such impartiality deserves a return. We will visit them both, E Pok. If it suits you.” “I am your servant, E Roki.” How to identify a Solarian without ask- ing?—Roki wondered as they sat sipping a sticky, yeasty drink in the lounge of the Wanderer. The dimly lighted room was filled with men of all races—pygmies, giants, black, red, and brown. All ap- peared human, or nearly so. There were a few women among the crewmen, and most of them removed their borrowed veils CORMICE OOS (C@) in