Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 46: what you’re looking at

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

a 44 look of savagery about him that caused the Cophian to tense, as if sensing an adversary. “What is it you don’t like about them?” . he asked, without taking his eyes from the Solarian. “Their sharp ears for one thing,” whis- pered Pok as the Solarian whirled to stare toward their table. “Their nasty tempers for another.” “Ah? Rage reactions show biologic weakness,” said the Cophian in a mild tone, but as loud as the first time. The Solarian, who had been waiting for a seat at the bar, turned and stalked straight toward them, Pok whimpered. Roki stared at him coolly. The Solarian loomed over them and glared from one to the other. He seemed to decide that Pok was properly cowed, and he turned his fierce eyes on the ex-patrolman. “Would you like to discuss biology, man- thing?” he growled like distant thunder. His speaking exposed his teeth—huge white chisels of heavy ivory. They were not re- gressed toward the fanged stage, but they suggested, together with the massive jaw, that nature might be working toward an efficient bone-crusher. Roki swirled his drink thoughtfully. “I don’t know you, Bristleface,” he murmured. “But if your biology bothers you, I'd be glad to discuss it with you.” He watched carefully for the reaction. The Solarian went gray-purple. His eyes danced with fire, and his slit mouth quivered as if to bare the strong teeth. Just as he seemed about to explode, the anger faded -—or rather settled in upon itself to brood. “This is beneath me,” the eyes seemed to be saying. Then he laughed cordially. “My apologies. I thought to share a table with you.” “Help yourself.” The Solarian paused. “Where are you from, manthing?” Roki also paused. They might have heard that a Cophian commander blasted one of their ships. Still he didn’t care to be caught in a lie. “Sixty-Star Cluster,” he grunted. “Which sun?” The Solarian’s voice sug- gested that he was accustomed to being answered instantly. Roki glowered at him. “Information for information, fellow. And I don’t talk to people who stand over me.” He pointedly turned to Pok. “As we were saying—” “I am of Sol,” growled the big one. “Fair enough. I am of Coph.” The giant’s brows lifted slightly. “Ah, ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION yes.” He inspected Roki curiously and sat down. The chair creaked a warning. “Per- haps that explains it.” “Explains what?” Roki frowned omi- nously. He disliked overbearing men, and his hackles were rising. There was some- thing about this fellow— “I understand that Cophians are given to a certain ruthlessness,” Roki pretended to ponder the statement while he eyed the big man coldly. “True, perhaps. It would be dangerous for you to go to Coph, I think. You would probably be killed rather quickly.” The angry color reappeared, but the man smiled politely “A nation of duelists, I believe, military in character, highly dis- ciplined. Yes? They sometimes serve in the Sixty-Star Forces, eh?” The words left no doubt in Roki’s mind that the Solarian knew who had blasted their ship and why. But he doubted that the man had guessed his identity. “I know less of your world, Solarian.” “Such ignorance is common. We are re- garded as the galactic rurals, so to speak. We are too far from your dense star clusters.” He paused. “You knew us once. We planted you here, And I feel sure you will know us again.” He smiled to himself, finished his drink, and arose, “May we meet again, Cophian.” Roki nodded and watched the giant stride away. Pok was breathing asthmatically and picking nervously at his nails. He let out a sigh of relief with the Solarian’s departure. Roki offered the frightened interpreter a stiff drink, and then another. After two more, Pok swayed dizzily, then fell asleep across the table. Roki left him there. If Pok were an informer, it would be better to keep him out of the meeting with the patrol officer, Captain WeJan. He hailed a cab and gave the driver the scrap of paper. A few minutes later, he arrived before a small building in the suburbs. WeJan’s name was on the door— written in the space-tongue—but the officer was not at home. Frowning, he tried the door; locked. Then, glancing back toward the street, he caught a glimpse of a man standing in the shadows. It was a Solarian. Slowly, Roki walked across the street. “Got a match, Bristelface?” he grunted. In the light of triple-moons, he saw the giant figure swell with rage. The man looked quickly up and down the street. No one was watching. He emitted a low animal- growl, exposing the brutal teeth. His arms (COMAMIE XOO KSEE)