Read Ebook: The agile Algolian by Crossen Kendell Foster Finlay Virgil Illustrator

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Ebook has 329 lines and 13882 words, and 7 pages

eartfelt emotion. As he did so, he saw a Canopusian third eye retreating through the keyhole. He laughed in spite of himself.

"As much as I hate to admit it," he said "J. Barnaby did have a good idea. Canopusians being what they are, it won't be an hour before the entire city knows that Mrs. Draco wears some sort of contraption which klobbers her husband every time he tries to touch her and that Mrs. Draco also has a voice that sounds like an atomic saw trying to chew through asteroid ore, and never stops using it. That ought to bring the wife-killer on the run." He glanced at the blonde and couldn't see how anything so softly rounded could be practically indestructible. "Baby," he said, "are you sure that this isn't going to be dangerous for you?"

"Positive," she said. "But it's nice of you to worry." She blew him a kiss--which was about as satisfactory as such things always are. "What do we do now?"

"I shall admire you for a moment--from a distance," he added hastily. "It'll give time for the word to spread. Then I think I'll go see this second-hand asteroid dealer. Leaving you at home, I might add. There's going to be a limit to how much I can take of your public manners until this is over ... want me to call room service and have something to eat sent up?"

She shook her head. "I don't need anything. My metabolism is quite different from yours."

"Meaning you don't eat?"

"Not as often as you Terrans, at least," she said. "I may be hungry in a few days--it all depends...." Her voice trailed off without revealing on what it depended. But as he stared at the sensuous curves of her body, there was probably nothing which interested Manning less than her eating habits.

"That reminds me," he said. "Where have you been all my life? I've been around, but I don't think I ever saw an Aliothan before."

She had seated herself at the built-in vanity table and was combing her hair. It gleamed in the light like gold threads. "Probably not," she said. "Very few of us have ever been off our planet. This is my own first trip and it was only possible because Mr. Cruikshank arranged it."

"Why?"

She hesitated, then faced him with a funny little smile. "It's a kind of inequality of sexes," she said. "It's only the women of Alioth who are not allowed to leave the planet."

"All the men travel about in the galaxy?"

"Well--all the single men." She stood up and stretched seductively, her breasts straining against the wisp of silk. "But when an Aliothan man marries he never leaves his wife."

"That I can understand," Manning said fervently. "I can appreciate Aliothan men not wanting the competition they'd have if the rest of the universe knew about you. Have they always penned you in like that?"

She shrugged. "As long as I can remember we've been restricted to Alioth--except when special permission is granted in a case such as this."

"They can't do this to you," Manning said hotly. "Does the Federation know about this?"

"They know about it."

"I'll speak to J. Barnaby about it when we get back," Manning promised. He started to reach out to pat her on the shoulder, but quickly thought better of it. "He's a big man and he can do something if he wants to. I'll tell him he either sees that you're permitted to go where you want to, or I'll go back to Alioth with you."

"I'd like that," she said softly.

Her voice was so provocative that Manning was about to renew his plea for the removal of the ultrasonic device when there was a knock on the door. Muttering his opinion of visitors in general, he went to see who it was.

The figure who stood in front of the door was enough to make a man slam the door quick. He was as tall as Manning, but there the resemblance ended. His body was rectangular, covered with bits of gayly colored cloth, and supported on three sturdy legs. His head was a perfect square, with one eye and a mouth opening on each of four sides. In the center of the top of his head there was a growth of stiff, antennae-like hair. A ribbon was tied about it some four inches above his head, and the remaining five inches of hair flopped out over it so that it gave the appearance of a mushroom.

"We don't want any," Manning said. He started to close the door.

"Please," said the figure, holding up a broad, flat tentacle. He hissed his sibilants, a common practice among many of the galactic races when they spoke Terran. "I would introduce myself."

"Go ahead," Manning said ungraciously.

"I am Angus McBlla, in all modesty the best guide on Canopus." The eye facing Manning winked slowly. "I am what you might call a black market guide. I will give you service for twenty per cent less than any other guide and with fifty per cent more efficiency. I am sufficiently bonded to cover all accidents which may befall you."

"That's nice," Manning said drily. He was about to add that he hardly needed a guide to find his way around in his room, when he decided he might as well get the next step of his case over. "Just a minute," he said. He turned back to the blonde. "There's a guide here, dear. I might as well go find out about renting one of those asteroids."

"All right," she called. She was using the shrew-voice again. "But you hurry right back here, Melvin Draco. I didn't travel six hundred and fifty light years just to sit in a hotel room--"

"Yes, dear," Manning said, closing the door gently but firmly. He walked down the corridor with the guide.

"The lady has--ah--a well-developed voice," Angus McBlla said carefully. His shock of hair seemed to be still quivering.

Manning was about to point out that everything about the lady was well-developed when he realized that was hardly the role for a man who wanted to get rid of his wife. "You can say that again, brother," he said.

"Did you wish to go somewhere?" the guide inquired politely. "Or did you merely wish to get out of the room?"

Manning laughed. "I can see you've had experience with Terrans," he said. "I want to find a second-hand asteroid dealer named Dzanku Dzanku. Know where he's located?"

The Rigelian's place of business occupied a corner lot in the center of Canopusia. Across two sides of the lot there were huge banners announcing his presence:

"DIZZY" DZANKU, THE HONEST RIGELIAN--KING OF THE SECOND-HAND ASTEROIDS--MY PRICES ARE SO LOW YOU'RE CRAZY IF YOU DON'T TAKE ADVANTAGE OF ME.

A small one-room bungalow snuggled in one corner of the lot. There were, of course, no actual asteroids on the lot, but it was filled with scaled models of the ones he had to rent or sell.

Angus McBlla accompanied Manning to the corner and then went into a sense-lounge to wait until he had concluded his business. Manning entered the office of the Honest Rigelian.

The individual in the office was undoubtedly a Rigelian. He was no taller than Manning, but he probably weighed at least a ton by Terra standards. His thick, square torso was supported by two legs, each as thick as a tree trunk. From the upper part of his body projected six tentacles. His face was small and expressionless, with three eye-stalks raised several inches above it.

For a moment the Terran and the Rigelian stared at each other. As J. Barnaby had pointed out earlier, if this were an honest Rigelian, then it would probably be the only one that Manning would ever see. Yet in some mysterious fashion he had the distinct impression that this one was honest. Since he had come expecting to believe just the opposite, this was surprising. In the meantime, he noticed that the Rigelian was regarding him with something like astonishment in each of his three eyes.

"You are a Terran?" the Rigelian finally asked.

"Of course," Manning said.

"Strange ... you must be a new model. I can't ever remember meeting one quite like you...."

"What's so strange about me?" Manning demanded.

The Rigelian realized that he was hardly acting in the proper way to a potential customer and his tentacles waved in mild agitation. "I--that is--you seem somewhat more distinctive than the average Terran," he said. It was obvious that he was lying, an interesting fact in itself since Rigelians were noted for their smooth lying. "Can I help you in some way?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Dzanku."

"You've found him," the Rigelian said, recovering his professional enthusiasm. "I am Dizzy Dzanku, the Honest Rigelian. Every asteroid comes with a ninety day guarantee. If it's a crypt-asteroid you're interested in, I guarantee those for life." He gave a well rehearsed laugh.

"My name is Melvin Draco," Manning said. "The little woman and I are up here on a vacation and I want to rent an asteroid."

"I see," Dzanku said, rubbing his tentacles together. "I have some rather fine Honeymoon Specials...."

"No honeymoon," Manning said sourly. He hoped that he sounded like a jaded husband. "But I would like something fairly quiet so my wife can't be inviting too many people to drop in on us. I'm up here for a rest."

"Of course," the Rigelian said. He glanced shrewdly at Manning. "Something with twin bedrooms, perhaps?"

"Fine," Manning said. "If they are also soundproofed so much the better."

"To be sure," said Dzanku, with an air of having dealt with such Terrans before. "I have several which I think might fill the bill. Would you like to step out to look at the models?"

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