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

"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?"

They went out on the lot where the Rigelian displayed his models. There were several asteroids that seemed about right. Those that were for rent had small modern homes, equipped with the latest model of robot-servants, and included a small spaceabout for trips down to the planet. Manning finally settled on one which was also furnished with a tiny hunting lodge at a good safe distance from the main house. He paid the advance rent and the Rigelian assured him that the spaceabout would be at the port by the time he could arrive there.

Manning stopped at the sense-lounge for the guide, who seemed a trifle gayer for his pick-me-up, and they returned to the hotel. He checked out and Angus McBlla guided him and Fanya back to the spaceport. He insisted on giving Manning his visinumber in case his services might be needed later. Then Manning and Fanya blasted off for the asteroid.

The next two days passed pleasantly enough--except for the fact that Manning Draco still had to keep his distance with one of the most beautiful blondes he had ever seen. The efficiency of the device she wore was enough to make a man lose faith in modern science.

On the morning of the third day, a Canopusian copter dropped by the asteroid and left some mail, one letter addressed to Mr. Melvin Draco. It was from the Marital Relations Bureau of Canopus and its contents were almost identical with the letter Manning had seen in the Greater Solarian office.

"Well, it looks like we're getting somewhere, baby," he told Fanya. "It won't be long now."

Her blue eyes were intense as she stared back at him. "It can't be too soon for me," she said.

Manning was flattered that her eagerness seemed to match his own. He had noticed her becoming more tense and restless during the two days they had been on the asteroid.

"There's just one thing I don't understand," he said. "How did J. Barnaby manage to instill such loyalty in you? Why bother to keep your word, since he is so obviously using you?"

"It's not loyalty," she answered. "The device I'm wearing broadcasts a signal to a receiver in Mr. Cruikshank's office. If I remove it, he will know it at once and he swore he could have the space patrol here before I--before we would even have a chance to get acquainted."

"He would too," Manning said, adding a few choice observations on the man who was his superior.

"But," she said softly, "he promised that he would disconnect the receiver the minute he heard from you that the case is solved."

"There must be a catch in it somewhere," grumbled Manning. "I never knew J. Barnaby to be so generous. But, in the meantime, I'd better run along and see our Mr. Nadyl."

She blew him a kiss as he left the house.

On the way down to Canopus, Manning put in a call for Angus McBlla and when he arrived at the spaceport the guide was already waiting for him.

"I want to go to twenty-seven Circle Square," he told the guide. "You know where it is?"

"Nothing to it," Angus said as he hailed an air-cab. He chuckled as they climbed in. "You know, Circle Square created quite an interest when the Canopusians first started trying to interest the rest of the universe in coming here by sending out pamphlets. But the attraction died as soon as the first bunch of galactic scholars arrived."

"Why?" Manning asked.

"Well, the sales literature of the Chamber of Commerce gave the impression that the Canopusians, in building Circle Square, had finally managed to square a circle. But all they had actually done was build the street on two levels. The first level was a square and the second level was a circle."

"Clever, these Canopusians," Manning said drily.

Within a few minutes, Angus guiding the driver, the air-cab set down on the upper level of Circle Square and let them out. Angus pointed out number 27 and once more went to a sense-lounge to wait for his client.

The office of the Marital Relations Bureau turned out to be a lavish place. The lighting was subtle, giving the impression of being standard Romance lighting. Actually, Manning soon realized, the combination was an exaggeration of the usual lighting guaranteed to stimulate romantic emotions. As a result, he guessed, a few minutes in the reception room could almost be certain to turn genuine love to hate. He also suspected that there was an Antagonist perfume being sprayed into the room, but he could not be certain.

The receptionist was a Canopusian. She took Manning's name and asked him to wait. She made a couple of attempts to get him to talking about his problems, but gave up when she had no success.

It was about fifteen minutes before she told Manning he could go in. She indicated the door back of her desk and he went through, into one of the most luxurious offices he had ever seen. Everything in it, in terms of color and lighting, had been planned to establish trust in the occupant. Again, Manning thought he caught a faint scent of one of the dependency perfumes, but it was so slight he couldn't swear to it.

Nottyl Nadyl was short and fat. He was no more than four feet tall, but his rounded body was almost as wide as the desk behind which he sat. His head was another, smaller balloon. He was partly bald, but a luxurious growth of coarse hair sprouted from the back of his head, hanging halfway down his back. A broad smile crinkled the flesh up around his four eyes, giving him a jolly appearance.

"Come in, come in," he called as Manning stopped in the doorway. "Welcome to the Marital Relations Bureau of Canopus--the refuge of bruised spirits, the home of last resorts. Come in, sir."

Manning took the chair in front of the desk and examined the creature who beamed at him. He remembered that J. Barnaby had said Nadyl was an Algolian. Manning had met a number of Algolians. He was certain that Angus McBlla, the guide, was also from Algol--but Nadyl seemed to be from a different race than any of the others he'd seen.

"I am Nottyl Nadyl, at your service," the Algolian said. "No marital problem too difficult for us. Your name, sir?" He still smiled broadly, but his eyes were studying Manning with a humorless gaze.

"Melvin Draco," said Manning. He was certain the Algolian already knew his name.

"And how did you happen to seek our services, Mr. Draco?"

"You sent me a letter," Manning said, pulling it from his pocket.

"We send out so many letters," murmured Nadyl. "So there is a rift in your conjugal bliss--do you find it difficult to understand me, Mr. Draco? Should I speak more simply?"

"Of course, I understand you; I'm hardly an idiot," Manning said irritably.

"I'm a Terran." Manning was beginning to wonder what some of these aliens on Canopus thought Terrans were like; this was the second time he'd been asked doubtfully about his origin. He checked the impulse to look to see if his clothing was disarranged. For a minute he felt like the man at whom the famous Tongue-Shrinker ads were aimed.

Whatever it was that was disturbing the Algolian, he dismissed it. "Well," he said briskly, "what seems to be your problem, Mr. Draco?"

"My wife," Manning said solemnly, "is a very beautiful woman and I am quite fond of her. But the poor woman has a most unpleasant voice which she uses almost constantly. And lately she seems to have decided that a husband's place is across the room from his wife."

"A most unfortunate situation," the Algolian agreed pleasantly. His tentacles busied themselves with things on the desk in a manner reminding Manning of J. Barnaby Cruikshank. "We find it to be, however, a rather common complaint. But not one, I might add, which offers any obstacles to our services."

"Just how do you work?" Manning asked.

"That seems fair enough."

Manning squirmed in his seat, giving a good imitation of a man who wants to be sure of something, but doesn't know how to approach it. "The--ah--treatment is permanent?" he asked.

"Oh, decidedly permanent," the Algolian said cheerfully.

Manning peered at the letter again, then glanced hesitatingly at Nadyl. "I was especially interested in this sentence in your letter which refers to the possibility of--ah--making a profit...."

"I'm glad you mentioned that," Nadyl said. "It is always a pleasure to do business with a practical man. Do you carry insurance, Mr. Draco?"

"Only a small policy on myself...."

"Insurance," the Algolian said sententiously, "is one of the wisest investments a man can make. I suggest that at your earliest opportunity you take out a joint policy covering yourself and your wife. A policy for not less than one hundred thousand credits. One never knows when the grim reaper may snatch away a beloved and it is well to be financially prepared for such events."

"I suppose so," Manning said dutifully.

"We trust, of course, that you and your wife will both enjoy the fruits of longevity, but in the event of any untoward fatality to your wife I suggest that you deal with the Happy Asteroid Mortuary here on Canopus. The owner, Encycla Grave, is from my own planet and I can assure you that he operates with the utmost tact. He will handle all details for a quiet burial on an asteroid, which will then be power-driven out into space, leaving no trace of--er--your recent bereavement. Although he is rather expensive, he is worth it."

"How expensive?"

"Fifty per cent of the amount of the policy on your wife," the Algolian said. "This may seem large until you consider the extent of his services and the fact that there is still a comfortable margin between the amount you retain and the one year premium you will have paid."

"Let me get this straight," Manning said bluntly. His forehead was wrinkled with thought. "If I take out an insurance policy for a hundred thousand credits or more, and if I agree to give half of it to this undertaker fellow, then you'll kill my wife. Is that it?"

The Algolian threw up his tentacles in horror. "My dear fellow," he exclaimed, "must you talk like a character on a visiscreen thriller? Rather let us put it this way: You have a marital problem. Your wife's present attitude and actions are an obstacle to your complete happiness. I am an individual who is deeply concerned about the happiness of everyone. If, therefore, you agree to follow all of my various suggestions, I will undertake to eliminate the things which stand in the way of your happiness. There is, you understand, no guarantee of anything; neither is there any cost to you until you have had your present discomfort alleviated."

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