Astounding British Edition, Volume 8, No. 11 — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

BLUFF-STAINED TRANSACTION By H. B. FYFE T the control desk, the slim, dark man Stared intently into the screen at the swelling image of the nearby planet. His hulking partner addressed yet another grumbling remark to his back. “You were gonna handle him! Charlie Ferris, the big diplomat!” Something like a snarl twisted the hairline mustache on the lean man’s hard face. He turned impatiently. 7 ; “But he had the goods on us!” he ex- _ ploded. “They don’t call it the Bureau of Slick Tricks for nothin’. You know very well, Gerry, we’re lucky he let us keep the ship to work out the debt!” “Which he got us into.” “Maybe so,” shrugged Ferris. “You wanna go to court about it? An’ anyway, after all the talk, I didn’t see Fuller gettin’ his jaw socked. Why shovel it all off on me?” “I got a good mind to drop an eclipse over him when we land, if he’s there,” said the big man sourly, “Don’t forget the orders. We know nothin’ an’ nobody connected with the B. S. T. on Rerv IV. We’re just Charles Ferris an’ Gervase Taylor, gentlemen space travelers,” The blond man fell silent. Giving up his goading, he sat sulkily at the astrogation desk of the austere little control room and regarded his big hands. The knuckles were knobby and displayed a number of little white scars. He shook his head slowly. “Those phony lenses!” he grunted. “All right, all right! We got back from Kosor, didn’t we?” demanded Ferris. “With our skins, just about.” ‘“And the ship. For a while, I didn’t think we'd pry the Kosorians loose, but we’ve still got that. Now if things work out here, we might come out with a stake. There’s generally a few credits to be picked up when something smells like this job.” Taylor did not beam with enthusiasm. “I'd just as soon we kicked off a few light-years—credits or no _ credits. That slicker’ll wind up skinning us again.” “Not... this ... time!” promised Ferris between set teeth. | The silence held for half an hour before Ferris spoke again. “Time to go into a landing curve,” he warned. | Some hours later, the ship flared down out of a hazy sky over one pole of Rerv IV. Ferris tailed down neatly at the only spaceport of the planet, situated on the - largest island, and the two men released 56 themselves from the acceleration seats, They checked for damage and leakage as a matter of routine before preparing to leave the ship. ~ = ee “You sure it’s the right place?” asked Taylor. = “Maybe you saw some place else to land?” Ferris challenged “Sure, it’s the right place. Didn’t they answer our request for landin’ instructions?” = “Could you understand the answer?” | “Well . . . no;. but if I can set down guided by some cracked’ jet talking through ~ a mouthful of mush, that shows what a hot pilot I am. Besides, there ain’t anywhere to land but this one ring of islands.” Taylor glanced gloomily at the sketch taped to the astrogation desk. It showed a narrow band of islands that girdled the small planet about twenty degrees from the pole. Ferris had landed on the largest, several hundred miles long, which bore a spot marked in red as a sizable town. “So this is New Honolulu, is it?” = “You know any other cities on this planet?” demanded Ferris in exasperation. “Come on—count your teeth an’ let’s have a look outside!” — Out of long habit, he paused to check the exterior atmosphere, but as he had been © = informed, it was remarkably like that of - Terra in the main. Despite the latitude, the temperature was summery. : They made their way through the air lock and presently stood side by side at the top of the ladder. “I don’t think I want my jacket,” said Taylor. Bien een ae He wore a draped and belted jacket of conservative green, with slacks nearly the same color tucked into high spaceman’s boots, In contrast to the dapper Ferris, — nothing about Taylor seemed to have been pressed. His shorter friend was gayer in a jacket of black and gold, and his sky-blue slacks were matched by the neck scarf which EO books MiG (S@)