diff options
| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-30 20:53:02 -0800 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-01-30 20:53:02 -0800 |
| commit | 279dc7e12fcc3013ceb3bb1b46d64468c17f386b (patch) | |
| tree | e570745165c3eb8fd1fa54f5bdb141b76d2cc86f | |
| parent | 26409d6ce98ae4e604d44826decd915d752203f2 (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 4 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62168-h.zip | bin | 445501 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62168-h/62168-h.htm | 1388 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62168-h/images/cover.jpg | bin | 296735 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62168-h/images/illus.jpg | bin | 123485 -> 0 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62168.txt | 1280 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/62168.zip | bin | 25376 -> 0 bytes |
9 files changed, 17 insertions, 2668 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9dc4969 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #62168 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/62168) diff --git a/old/62168-h.zip b/old/62168-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 65ae85b..0000000 --- a/old/62168-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62168-h/62168-h.htm b/old/62168-h/62168-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 20f4975..0000000 --- a/old/62168-h/62168-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1388 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Asteroid of the Damned, by Dirk Wylie. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.caption {font-weight: bold;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Asteroid of the Damned, by Dirk Wylie - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Asteroid of the Damned - -Author: Dirk Wylie - -Release Date: May 18, 2020 [EBook #62168] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTEROID OF THE DAMNED *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="349" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>ASTEROID OF THE DAMNED</h1> - -<h2>By DIRK WYLIE</h2> - -<p>Somewhere on that asteroid of sin<br /> -lurked the crime king of the Universe.</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Summer 1942.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"Sorry, son," MacCauley said with the barrel-scrapings of his patience. -"I said no and I meant it. I haven't got anything to give you. Now -please stop waggling at me and go."</p> - -<p>The excited glitter of the Palladian's luminiferous eyes died -dispiritedly. MacCauley turned his back on the slight-bodied asterite -and rapped his thumbnail against his drained glass. The bartender, a -heavy and humorous man, expertly refilled Mac's glass with oily, musky, -milk-white synthetic liquor and said: "This Kiddie bothering you? Scat, -you, or I'll see that you never get into this place again."</p> - -<p>Mac shrugged as he watched the stripling strain to catch the -bartender's meaning by reading his lips, then mournfully disappear. -"No more than they all do," he answered. "What's the matter with them, -anyhow? They're positively nutty on the subject of money."</p> - -<p>The bartender shook his head and snatched a quick drag on a smoldering -cigar-stub. Replacing it on a ledge, he said: "Not money so much. You -couldn't bribe a Kiddie with a certified check for a couple of billion -dollars. They're not bright, exactly; they don't regard paper as worth -anything. It's metal they want. If it happens to be precious, that's -all right, but any kind of metal will do. What they're really crazy -about, of course, is silver and copper. They'll do just about anything -for it, including murder and treason."</p> - -<p>Mac, listening too intently, gulped a bit more of his drink than -even his spaceman's gullet could take. When the red-hot lava stopped -strangling him and he could see once more through the streaming -fountains that had been his eyes, he managed to choke out: "What do -they want it for? Do they eat it?"</p> - -<p>The bartender laughed. "Nah. They don't really eat anything. They drink -some kind of stuff they find in the rocks—like they used to find -petroleum, on Earth. Radioactive, this stuff is. That's all they need -to live on. They don't breathe at all. You can see that; they don't -even have a mouth or a real nose, just a sort of trunk that they drink -through.... Wait a minute. Be back."</p> - -<p>The bartender rolled away. A couple of new customers had come into his -side of the bar and were demanding attention.</p> - -<p>Mac sighed and glanced at his watch. But the bartender was back and -ready for more talk before Mac had made up his mind to leave. The -bartender wanted to talk because this was a dull night in the cafe -attached to Pallas' largest gambling-room; for the same reason, -MacCauley wanted to leave. He was here on business.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>However, he might need to know something about the natives of Pallas -for his business. And he really was shockingly uninformed about the -creatures who inhabited the free-port asteroid. Other than that they -were called Kiddies, looked like seven-year-old Earthly children, and -didn't breathe, he really knew nothing.</p> - -<p>"Then what do they do with this metal if they don't eat it?" he asked.</p> - -<p>The bartender shrugged. "They probably know, but they're too dopey to -be able to tell you. I asked one of them once—he wrote out an answer, -the way they always do when they want to tell you something. Seems they -generate electricity in their bodies. A Palladian's idea of a real good -time is to take a hunk of pure copper and hold it in his hands. The -current runs from one hand to the other. They are like that. This one -claimed that each metal gave them a different kind of thrill."</p> - -<p>"All right if you like," MacCauley said absently. "Me, I'll take my -jolts out of a bottle."</p> - -<p>"Was that an order for another drink?" The bottle was already in the -fat man's hands.</p> - -<p>MacCauley nodded, and glanced again at the time. He swallowed the -poisonous liquor as fast as he could manage; then took one last quick -look around the bar to make sure.</p> - -<p>Yep, he was wasting time here. The place was practically empty.</p> - -<p>He paid his check in Earth-American dollars, and passed on to the main -game room.</p> - -<p>Like everything else in Pallas, it was completely underground, with a -purely artificial atmosphere. Artificial, in fact, was the word for -Pallas. Everything about it was synthetic; there wasn't a figment of -reality to be found in it. All that Pallas had to offer visitors was -freedom from most of the more pressing laws of the more civilized—and -larger—worlds. That, and the Kiddies, the peculiar race that had been -found on the small asteroid when the first space-explorers got there. -Everything that Pallas had, it owed to the fact that, in essence, it -had nothing. No minerals worth the cost of extraction; no agriculture; -no science; no artifacts; no history. It was so totally useless that -the major worlds of the system had declared, "Hands off!" And to -that fact Pallas owed the liberality of laws that made it a refuge -for fugitives from the Tri-Planet justice, as well as a planet-sized -gambling den.</p> - -<p>MacCauley curled the tip of his nose when he got a whiff of the -atmosphere. It had been bad enough in the bar—thin, moist air, -representing a compromise between the atmospheres of Earth, Mars -and Venus; enjoyable to the members of none of the races from those -planets, but just barely breathable to all. That atmosphere, even when -pure, was obnoxious. And here, in the densely-packed main hall, it was -really foul. There was something about Venusians, Mac decided, that he -didn't like. It wasn't their fault, of course, that they had evolved in -a wet climate, and had distinct auras of unearthly B.O. in consequence -of their need to perspire. But it wasn't his fault, either, and he -didn't see why he should suffer for it.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mentally holding his nostrils, he waded into the reek and halted by -a magneto-roulette table. A casual observer, MacCauley hoped, would -think he was engrossed in watching the game. Actually he was carefully -scrutinizing each of the score of players and spectators at the table. -Somewhere in this motley mob made of the dwellers of a half-dozen -planets there might be a cool, level-headed, thoroughly dangerous -man, the brains of the syndicate that was flooding Earth and Venus -with narcophene. That drug was the most formidable in the history of -narcotics. You chewed it—if you were insane or ignorant!—and you felt -nothing but a pleasant coolness on your tongue. There weren't any mad -hallucinations of grandeur; you never lost consciousness of what you -were doing or who you were. Just, without your consciously realizing -it, you felt better all around. Things that should have worried you -sick seemed trivial; you could laugh at the specter of sickness or -agony or anything, however fearsome that endangered or injured you. -The drug had a certain medical value; it was used to prevent total -insanity in persons suffering from utterly incurable and horribly -painful diseases. For with them it didn't matter that the narcophene -habit was permanent, once acquired; they didn't have to fear the mental -and moral and eventually physical collapse that was bound to come. They -were as good as dead anyhow.</p> - -<p>But for others....</p> - -<p>And the man who had reorganized the once-smashed industry of -manufacturing and smuggling it was on Pallas now. That much the home -office of Tri-Planet Law knew, and had told Mac. That was all their -best operatives on the inner planets had been able to dig up, and from -that point onward ... nothing. Those who could have told more were -addicts, and those who had tried to tell more were dead. Murdered.</p> - -<p>There was a TPL office on Pallas, of course, but it was a one-man -outfit. And the one man seemed thoroughly incompetent, for this job, at -least. His reports had shown him to be unable to even begin the job of -tracking down the man. Hence, MacCauley.</p> - -<p>For the sake of appearances, MacCauley threw a bill on number 28, lost -it, and moved on. Nobody in the neighborhood of that table corresponded -to the vague physical description he'd been able to glean from the -scanty reports.</p> - -<p>Nor, he found, did anyone in the house. That didn't prove anything, of -course, except that the man Mac was after wasn't at this particular -place at the time; or, naturally, that the description MacCauley'd been -given was wrong from the ground up, but that wasn't a thing to think -about.</p> - -<p>He shrugged and moved toward the exit. The room was packed worse than -ever; he had to shove his way through. He kept bumping into people, -he noticed—then looked around. It wasn't so much that he was bumping -into people, he found, as that people, represented by the Kiddie, were -nudging him.</p> - -<p>"Oh, for the Lord's sake!" he cried tiredly. "I tell you I won't give -you anything. Now get away from me. And stay away, if you want to keep -living."</p> - -<p>The Kiddie shrank into himself and seemed to whimper voicelessly. The -glow-glands set around his eyes shone a pinkish purple of fright. He -started to say something—in the primitive sign-language that his race -used to communicate with aliens—but halted the gesture and abruptly -turned and slunk away. His slight frame, the size and appearance of -a seven-year-old boy's, vanished almost immediately in the pack of -hulking Venusians and attenuated, pallid stick-men from Mars.</p> - -<p>MacCauley didn't pursue him; there was no reason, of course, for him to -do so.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>But that, "of course," like so many others, was wrong. There was a -definite reason for Mac to follow the metals-mad asterite. Mac found -the reason when he reached the cloakroom. He reached in his pocket to -tip the pretty Terrestrial check-girl—and found not even a pocket. -Just a slit that had been made not more than ten minutes before, -through which the pocket itself and contents had been neatly extracted. -Presumably by the Kiddie.</p> - -<p>"Damn!" was the best Mac could do, but he said it with feeling. He -was casting about in his mind for something he could say to the girl -that might make her forget about tips when he saw the Kiddie himself, -luminescing a vivid green, scuttling out the front door.</p> - -<p>"Hey!" he yelled, and it wasn't only a desire to get away that kept -the Kiddie from looking around; he couldn't hear any more than he -could speak. Language failing, Mac took stronger measures. He left his -sport-silk jacket on the arm of the bewildered girl and sprinted after -the Kiddie. Intercepting him just previous to the door, he swung the -Palladian around and gestured with frantic anger. The Kiddie, with a -surprising show of strength in so frail a body, attempted no answer or -denial of the charge of theft, but wrenched himself free and darted out -the door.</p> - -<p>Mac, following, met the inevitable. When the luck of the MacCauleys ran -bad, it stayed bad—or worse. He collided with a fat and pugnacious -drunk. Not only collided with him but knocked the wind out of him. -If it hadn't been that the drunk had an equally drunk and volatile -companion, that would have been all right. As it was, Mac found -himself on the receiving end of a pale, knuckly Venusian fist.</p> - -<p>He was flat on the floor before he realized he'd been hit. Then began -the real trouble.</p> - -<p>Somebody yelled, "Oh, boy! A fight!" and leaped joyously on Mac with a -pair of magno-caulked spaceman's boots. What happened after that got -worse and worse. Everybody in the gambling joint seemed to have mayhem -in their hearts. Practically to a man, they poured out and joined in -the free-for-all. Half the floating population of Pallas seemed to have -come to rest on MacCauky's solar plexus by the time he heard the soft, -popping noises from the weapons of the house's private army of bouncers -and trouble-shooters. When MacCauley next found himself able to look -around he was out in the half-hearted illumination of the street, sick -and weak from the effect of the gas pellets which had quelled the riot.</p> - -<p>And without a penny to his name.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>It would have been foolhardy to have left his money in the "safe" at -the hotel, though there was slight comfort in that thought. One place -was as good as another on Pallas, where laws were made for the sheer -pleasure of violating them; the native Palladians, shifty and unmoral -as they were, were hopelessly outclassed in dishonesty by the civilized -men of the inner planets. The one law all respected was the law of pure -and applied force.</p> - -<p>Mac fumbled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and thought miserably -of going to the police. Miserably, because the native police force was -a joke and a mockery, maintained more to put the squeeze on innocent -foreigners than for any other reason. Which shows how naive the -asterites were; there was nothing innocent about most of the foreigners -that came to the tiny planet.</p> - -<p>Even the TPL post on the asteroid was powerless, shackled by diplomatic -necessities to the pretence that the thick-witted Palladians were -capable of running their own world. "Hands off!" was the watch-word.</p> - -<p>His swollen eyes squinting at the fluoro-flame lamps set in the rocky -ceiling of the tunneled street, MacCauley sighed heavily, feeling the -full weight of his predicament.</p> - -<p>All his money had been on him. All that was left of his money was a -memory and a neat little slit just under the zip-seal flap of his hip -pocket. And on Pallas, where it was dog eat dog and the devil help the -one who lacked a full set of teeth, money was the means of obtaining -dental attention.</p> - -<p>Yes, Mac was in a mess, for all his kit, including the last can of -Terrestrial cigarettes, were in the hotel room; even his blasters, -the slim, wicked pistols that projected a vibratory pencil-beam that -destroyed flesh and neural fibers and left the brain watery pulp, were -locked up in that dark little rat-hole up near the top of Pallas' -single, buried city. Mac was weaponless, except for a tempered bronze -knife in his shirt, on an outlaw world where a swift attack was the -best insurance against sudden death.</p> - -<p>His hotel bill was payable every twenty-four hours, and his period of -grace had expired. Pallas being first and foremost a gambling planet, -it wasn't at all uncommon for a man to check into the best suite a -hotel could offer, his money-belt fat and heavy with a half-million in -platinum credits; leave in the early afternoon for a little fling at -the tables, and come back in the evening asking apologetically if he -might borrow the price of a shave so he could look nice on the trip -back home.</p> - -<p>For that was the rule: no money, out you go and your baggage held -by right of a lockout. Everything on Pallas was operated by the -same ruling—cash strictly in advance. And to make sure that no -floaters were left to the dubious charity of the planetoid, there was -another standing rule. A law, this time; a duly enacted law of the -Palladian legislature and the sole ordinance that was enforced by the -foreign-sponsored native authorities.</p> - -<p>Before a visitor was admitted to Pallas, he was first made to post a -bond equal to his passage back home. And that could not be touched or -refunded until he left.</p> - -<p>MacCauley groaned aloud and looked about him. Walking blindly and -without thinking, very easy in the light gravity of low-powered -magna-gravs, he had entered a part of the sealed city new to him.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He was in the native quarter, at the planetoid's core, where the -asterites were as thick as red dust on Mars—and for the first time Mac -saw a Kiddie policeman. He was wearing no more clothing than the rest -of his kind, just carried a staff of office, like the old Bow Street -Runners.</p> - -<p>An idea suddenly made contact in MacCauley's mind. He signaled the -officer and dragged out a notebook and pencil, unnecessarily, as it -happened. The Kiddie, in sinuous gestures, signified that he could -understand English, partly by lip-reading, partly by picking up the -sound in some weird fashion through rock-conduction and the sensitive -soles of his splay feet.</p> - -<p>Mac, enunciating carefully, spoke.</p> - -<p>"One of your people has robbed me. I want him arrested. Where do I go?"</p> - -<p>The Kiddie bobbed his head, and from the manner in which his -luminiferous glands sparkled balefully, it was evident where he thought -MacCauley should go. Nevertheless, he snapped out <i>his</i> little pad and -stylus, and scrawled: "Commi wih me tu Offic he wil arange arest."</p> - -<p>MacCauley deciphered the scribble. He shrugged and said, "Okay. Hop to -it, sonny." He walked beside the diminutive policeman for a few hundred -feet, glancing incuriously at the small burrows which pierced the rock -walls and kicking away chunks of the queer, spongy rock on which the -Kiddies subsisted, the equivalent of Earthly garbage.</p> - -<p>He should have thought of the cops before, he realized. The Kiddies, -as a race, were not numerous, and he could probably bully them into -finding the thief and recovering his money. After all, why not?</p> - -<p>He soon found out. The lolling half-breed Venusian interpreter who -loafed around the ratty, worm-infested police station heard his -complaint and deftly translated it for the benefit of a moth-eaten -Kiddie who seemed to be as much in charge here as anyone else. -MacCauley drew an easy breath, his first in two hours, and then—</p> - -<p>The interpreter sing-songed, "Forty Earth-dollars, please. Filing fee."</p> - -<p>MacCauley's eyes narrowed. The old squeeze play. "Don't be a sap," he -said flatly, his thin lips tight against his teeth. "I haven't got -forty cents. That little louse took everything that was in my pocket."</p> - -<p>The Venusian smirked, and regarded his greenish, webbed hand with -great interest. "That is very bad, my friend," he said, and flicked a -flea from a fold in the skin of his wrinkled wrist. "Here on Pallas we -have a law; the citizens must be protected. When a foreigner makes an -accusation against a citizen, it is quite possible that he is wrong, -and a great injustice will have been done. As you know, there is only -one way to soothe a Palladian ... money."</p> - -<p>MacCauley cursed bitterly, harsh, biting oaths. "All right," he said -then, forcing his tone to evenness. "I'll sign a guarantee of the -money. When you catch this pickpocket, you'll reclaim the money; then -I'll put up the bond pending trial."</p> - -<p>By great effort the interpreter managed to look shocked. "That is -absurd. You must pay now; if the Palladian is innocent, he will not -have the money. No, it is impossible."</p> - -<p>"If he's innocent it'll be because you caught the wrong guy. Why, by -all the Plutonian Ice Devils, should I have to pay for your mistake?"</p> - -<p>The green-skinned man smirked again. "It is the law. The law is very -strict. If you do not like it, you can go back to the planet you came -from." And he turned away, busying himself with some important-looking -papers, dusty and much-handled. MacCauley was not too preoccupied to -note that the blubbery Venusian was holding them upside-down.</p> - -<p>MacCauley socked his balled fist into his palm and wondered if pacing -the littered floor would help. He was now, he assured himself, in the -worst of all fixes. The time he'd been trapped between two hostile -groups of Mercurians who were settling a private argument with -quarter-mile lightning bolts was a pleasure compared to this. Then he'd -had his guns, at least, and no restrictions about using them.</p> - -<p>He had to have his kit. Which meant getting his money back. It was -necessary, he decided, to play his trump card. He hadn't wanted to -reveal himself as a free-lancing TPL man; word would be sure to leak -out. But he certainly couldn't accomplish anything otherwise; the -chance of recovering the credits, and eventually his <i>materiel</i>, was -nil without some sort of aid. And that was what he could get only by -showing these small-time constables that he was Mr. Law himself. It may -be also that he was motivated by justifiable conceit in TPL itself.</p> - -<p>"Okay," he snapped suddenly, startling the pudgy hybrid with the -sharpness of his voice. "I guess there's no point in keeping under -wraps any longer. Let me tell you who I am...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Twenty minutes later, as he stumbled out of the warped stone building, -he was wondering dazedly why his TPL affiliation had done him no good.</p> - -<p>Tri-Planet Law was an organization that had considerable history, nor -could all of it be written. It was the most potent single force in the -history of any planet of the Solar System, figured any way you like. It -was the only force whose rule was hardly ever challenged.</p> - -<p>When you broke the law within the territories mandated by TPL, you did -so with the very greatest caution. And you never tried to fight back if -you were caught. It wasn't really a large organization, relative to the -vast throngs of intelligent life that swarmed the System. It was only -a tiny decimal of one per cent of the entire population of the thirty -inhabited globes. But when you consider that the total census showed -more than a hundred billion individuals of high enough brain-power to -be rated sentient, you can understand that a fraction of a per cent -does mean close to a hundred and thirty thousand persons united into -the best-organized police and military force that a hundred trained -social technicians could evolve.</p> - -<p>That is why MacCauley couldn't understand the fact that the half-breed -interpreter had practically laughed in his face.</p> - -<p>True, TPL's hundred and thirty thousand of personnel were largely on -the planets of Earth, Mars and Venus, plus their possessions and allied -states. TPL had no standing here, officially, but the organization -had a de facto reign over all of space by virtue of the fastest and -best-armed space-ships made. And Pallas, dependent upon the transient -trade, certainly shouldn't be able to afford to anger representative -of the body that ruled the space-lanes.</p> - -<p>Something, Mac decided, was thoroughly rotten in the local checking -office of TPL. Something that might show why the operative on Pallas -hadn't begun to be able to find the man or men behind the narcophene -racket.</p> - -<p>MacCauley hadn't shown himself there before because he didn't want -himself identified with the Law group. Now that he'd uselessly exposed -himself, that obstacle was nullified.</p> - -<p>He'd found out where the place was just so he could avoid it. Pausing a -second to puzzle out its probable direction, he started off.</p> - -<p>It was close, of course; nothing was far from anything on Pallas. -Within five minutes he was standing outside the building, rubbing his -chin and deciding that he could stand a wash-up before going in.</p> - -<p>Like most of the asteroid's structures, this one seemed to have been -made by a blind moron for his elder brother's fifth birthday. Stepping -gingerly to avoid bringing the ceiling down about his ears, he made for -the washroom.</p> - -<p>The Kiddie attendant was scrunched up in a corner, luminescing happily -over a former airlock handle. "Hey!" Mac said uselessly. A wadded paper -towel brought better results, and the Kiddie glanced up.</p> - -<p>Of course, it had to be the Kiddie who lifted Mac's roll. The gods of -chance saw to that. In a trice Mac had backed the frightened Kiddie -into a corner, looking rather threatening what with his grim expression -and the bronze knife suddenly sprouting from his fist. He was fumbling -for the gesture that would convey, "Gimme!" to the asterite when the -interruption came.</p> - -<p>"Having fun?"</p> - -<p>Mac dropped the Kiddie and spun around, automatically reaching for a -blaster that wasn't there. "Who the devil are you?" he snarled.</p> - -<p>The long Terrestrial newcomer leaned gingerly on a soot-covered -washstand and frowned. "Me? I work near here. Who are you?" He stuck a -cigarette in his taut lips, pinched the tip and inhaled sharply as it -flared bluely.</p> - -<p>Something clicked in MacCauley's memory. Remembrances of long rows of -files, photographs.... The TPL agent for Pallas. He said, "You're -Kittrell, right?"</p> - -<p>The long man nodded. "I might be," he said, "if you're somebody that's -got a right to know. So what?" He hadn't moved but his posture seemed -subtly altered, caution in every line of his frame. From the position -of his hands, Mac more than suspected he was armed.</p> - -<p>Easing his hands behind his back, he twisted the stem of his -wristwatch. Kittrell jumped. "Hey!" he exclaimed. Sparks were fairly -snapping from the blazing dial of his own heavy, old-fashioned -timepiece—the recognition signal of TPL operatives. "I guess I am -Kittrell," the man acknowledged. "They told me they were sending -someone from the Narcotics division to take over on that narcophene -business. You him?"</p> - -<p>"Yeah. Right now I'm having trouble of my own, though. This Kiddie -rolled me last night. Every cent I had; I can't even get back to my -hotel."</p> - -<p>"Rolled you?" Kittrell's eyes widened. "I know this fella. He cleans -up around the office. Wait a minute." His thin, pale hands flashed in -intricate motions, meaningless to Mac. They were significant to the -Kiddie, though, for he replied as rapidly. Kittrell nodded. "I wouldn't -have thought it of him. Always thought he was too stupid to rob anybody -over ten."</p> - -<p>That was a pretty dubious remark, Mac thought, but he ignored it. "Do -you suppose you can make him cough up?"</p> - -<p>"Sure!" The other smiled cheerfully. "Like this!"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Mac was unprepared for the next move. Kittrell pulled his punch, of -course, because he didn't want to kill the frail Palladian, but his -heavy fist bounced the Kiddie off the floor and flung him to the base -of the wall. He lay there, his glow-glands jetting crimson beams of -fear and rage.</p> - -<p>"Hey!" cried MacCauley. "Don't murder the poor son! That's no way to -get my dough back!"</p> - -<p>Kittrell stared. Then a shadow passed over his face and he seemed to -lose interest. He shrugged. "Have it your way. What do you want me to -do—adopt him?"</p> - -<p>"Ask him what he did with the money. Tell him he can have the metal -stuff; all I want back is the bills."</p> - -<p>Kittrell, looking disgusted, semaphored the message. Kiddie faces -don't react as a human's does, but MacCauley was pretty sure there was -gratitude glowing on this one's knobby features. After a couple of -seconds' gesticulation, Kittrell looked around. "He says he's sorry -he took it. If you come with him he'll give you the money. He's got -it stashed away in the sty he lives in, a little farther along this -corridor."</p> - -<p>"Will he do it?"</p> - -<p>Kittrell shrugged again. "Guess so. Anyway, you're bigger than him—or -don't you like rough stuff?"</p> - -<p>That, MacCauley thought, was hardly a friendly remark. He resolved -to take it up later; after all, it wasn't his fault that he was -superseding Kittrell. There really was no cause for jealousy in the -long man. "Coming?" Mac asked.</p> - -<p>Kittrell shook his head. "Got to go back to the office for a minute. -I'll drop around in about ten minutes, though."</p> - -<p>"Okay," said Mac, satisfied, and went out behind the Kiddie.</p> - -<p>The Kiddie's dwelling was ugly and cluttered, but moderately clean.</p> - -<p>The little asterite, with somewhat the attitude of a man who expects -a poke in the face, gestured to Mac to be seated on a hassock-like -affair. MacCauley rumbled: "Sure I'll sit down. I'll stay right here -until I get my dough back."</p> - -<p>The Kiddie seemed to shrug resignedly; probably he just gave that -impression from his general demeanor. He slipped away into another -room. Mac just had time to think of the possibility that the Kiddie had -made a getaway when he was back again, holding MacCauley's billfold.</p> - -<p>Mac counted it swiftly. "Where's the rest of it?" he grunted. The bills -were there, but there had been about two dollars in change—gone now.</p> - -<p>The Kiddie looked scared but shook his head. "Won't tell me, huh?" Mac -blustered. "How would you like to be put away for robbery? I swore out -a complaint against you today; if I turn you over, it'll be a long time -before you get out."</p> - -<p>The Kiddie looked more frightened than ever; he was practically -trembling. Mac was encouraged, but surprised by the reaction to his -threat—it shouldn't have been so great. He lived to regret the fact -that he didn't find out just why the Kiddie was so affected by the -threat of imprisonment.</p> - -<p>"All right," he went on. "Suppose I let you keep the metal. Suppose I -pay you well, get you lots more. Gold and silver dollars. You'd like -that, wouldn't you?"</p> - -<p>From the Palladian's sudden attitude of dog-like devotion, it was more -than clear that he would.</p> - -<p>"Okay," Mac said. "I'll pay you one hundred dollars in silver quarters, -if—"</p> - -<p>The Kiddie was ablaze with interest. Not taking his eyes off Mac, he -scuttled crab-wise over to a tablette, snatched up a notebook and -scrawled: "Il do anyhin wat do yu wan."</p> - -<p>Mac grinned. "Fine. Listen carefully now. I'm looking for an Earthman. -He's somewhere on this planet, but I wouldn't know him if I saw him. -He is about two inches taller than me; weighs maybe two hundred -pounds—a little fatter than I am. He's blind, practically, in one eye. -That's all I can tell you, because those are the only things he can't -disguise."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The Kiddie seemed suddenly reluctant, but was persuaded by a gesture of -Mac's—a gesture that cost him dear, as it turned out.</p> - -<p>"Here," he said, to seal the bargain. "Here's an advance for you." -Dexterously he flipped his knife from some recess of his shirt and -presented it to the Kiddie.</p> - -<p>Ecstacy was clearly shown by that Kiddie. His glow-glands fairly spat -large orange sparks of joy. The tempered bronze—it was made of that -metal only to avoid magnetic spotters—wasn't much good for cutting, -but it certainly was a conductor of electricity.</p> - -<p>"Well?" MacCauley said, growing impatient. He tapped the engrossed -Kiddie and repeated the question. The asterite bobbed his head and -pressed a stud on his pad. The writing vanished, and he was scribbling -again.</p> - -<p>"Hello there!" boomed a new voice from the doorway. "What's going on?"</p> - -<p>MacCauley whirled. Kittrell was standing there, beaming broadly. "Hi," -Mac said. "We were wondering—Hey! What the hell!"</p> - -<p>Kittrell's eyes had narrowed and a snarl flashed out on his face. With -the fastest draw MacCauley had ever seen, he snapped out his gun and -blasted—</p> - -<p>Not MacCauley. There was a stomach-squeezing hiss of sizzling flesh -behind Mac. He spun again, to see the Kiddie, his shoulder and half his -neck gone, slumped to the floor.</p> - -<p>Mac knelt swiftly beside him. Dead as a Ganymedan Secessionist. "Now -what the hell did you do that for?" Mac demanded. "I was on the trail -of something hot." He stared at the pad and stylus that had dropped -from the dead asterite's limp hand.</p> - -<p>"I kni the man yu wan he is th." That was all it said.</p> - -<p>"<i>That's</i> a big help," said MacCauley, confronting the other man, who -was strangely tense. He thrust the tablet at him. "Now what do I do?"</p> - -<p>Kittrell scanned it briefly, and relaxed a bit. "It looked bad to me," -he explained. "There was that damned Kiddie with a knife in his hand. -He had it up to throw at you—or me. Can't take chances."</p> - -<p>Mac sighed, resigning himself to continued hard luck. "We all make -mistakes, I guess," he said. Then, hardening: "But you've made your -last boner on this case. From now on stay the hell away from me. I -don't like you and I don't like the way you do things." He moved toward -the door. Kittrell, lounging across it, obstructed his path—just -enough to stop him.</p> - -<p>"Where're you going?" the bigger man asked.</p> - -<p>"To report this," Mac snapped. "You'll get out of it all right."</p> - -<p>"Don't report it."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>Kittrell grimaced distastefully. "Too much red tape. What the devil, -who'll know we were here?"</p> - -<p>Mac snorted and filled his lungs preparatory to telling Kittrell just -what he thought of him. There was a sweetish, balsam-like taste to the -air, like the smell of a fir forest.</p> - -<p>Or like the smell of narcophene.</p> - -<p>He had picked up the knife; still had it in his hands. While he was -still figuring things out, his hand swept up with the knife still in -it, pressed against Kittrell's abdomen. Kittrell's draw had been fast. -Maybe he was naturally gun-slick—fast enough, maybe, for a lightning -draw like that to be natural to him. Maybe he was, but maybe he was -just burning up the years of his life twice as fast as normal under the -influence of the drug.</p> - -<p>"If you don't want your gut slit, Kittrell, keep your hands where they -are!" Mac grated, his voice suddenly gone flat and hard.</p> - -<p>Kittrell's hand had fluttered toward his shoulder holster; it stopped -as Mac spoke.</p> - -<p>"I don't know whether you're really Kittrell or not—probably you are," -Mac muttered. "But if you're in TPL now, you'll be out pretty soon. As -soon as I tell them you're a hophead."</p> - -<p>Kittrell's face had gone white. Other than that there was no change as -his bleak eyes bored steadily into MacCauley's. "What are you talking -about?" he said evenly. "Take that thing out of my stomach."</p> - -<p>"Oh, no!" Mac shook his head decisively. "You killed one of my -witnesses; you'll take his place. You're going to tell me how to find -the guy that sells you the narcophene."</p> - -<p>"Sorry," said Kittrell, tautening still more, "but I can't." At the -last possible second his eyes flicked behind and over Mac's shoulder.</p> - -<p>The thing that hit MacCauley on the back of the neck first didn't quite -knock him out. He was stunned, but in the half-second before the next -blow jolted him into complete darkness, he heard Kittrell conclude, -most casually: "You see, I <i>am</i> the guy who sells the narcophene."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A shiver rippled along Mac's spine, and another one. That was his first -waking impression. He was cold, frozen stiff, he decided next, when his -limbs failed to react to the stimuli of his neural commands. As the fog -cleared away from his aching head he discovered that his hands were -tightly bound behind him, hobbles on his feet to keep him from walking -far or fast.</p> - -<p>Not that he could have gone anywhere much. He was in a bare little -metal room, lying on the grating that supplanted decks in most modern -spacers. Not much point in getting up, he realized, and merely hitched -himself into a more comfortable position in a corner, moving as well as -he could under the unaccustomed drag of full Earth gravity.</p> - -<p>He was in the lock-room, the chamber before an airlock. He felt vaguely -unhappy. Whatever was coming, he was sure he wouldn't like it.</p> - -<p>Behind him a heavy door eased open. Boots thumped hollowly on the -grids and a familiar voice sounded, echoing from the bare metal walls. -"Hello, MacCauley. How's the head?"</p> - -<p>"Go to hell," Mac suggested. He craned his neck and stared full into -Kittrell's face. There was a curious mixture of emotions there; faint -sorrow, an unpleasant sort of crooked leer, and an air of boredom—each -was visible. Kittrell shrugged.</p> - -<p>"I guess you know what you're up against?"</p> - -<p>"Sure." MacCauley tried to shrug, too, but succeeded only in tearing -a patch of skin from his wrists where the wire bonds were tightest. -"You're going to shove me out."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid so. Believe me, I'd rather not. I think you're a good chap; -once I wanted to be like you—loyal to the service. They stuck me out -here and made a desk clerk of me, when I would have given my arm to do -some real work. I got a good salary; there was prestige enough whenever -I could get back to Boston and show off. It was a good job, in a way. -But there was nothing to do. Then I intercepted a load of narcophene. -Like everybody else, I thought I could beat it. I didn't. I tried it -and couldn't stop."</p> - -<p>He stopped abruptly and scanned MacCauley's face through narrowed eyes. -"You see how it is?" he questioned.</p> - -<p>MacCauley tried to stall for time. Tensing his chest muscles against -the bruises, he said, "Give me a cigarette, Kittrell? That's the -usual privilege of the condemned man." The lunatic obligingly popped -a brown-paper cylinder between his lips, squeezed the tip to light -it. Mac suddenly heard more footsteps, lighter ones but many of them. -"What's that?"</p> - -<p>"Just my Kiddies," the dope peddler explained, as a dozen of them -trotted into the room and ranged themselves, immobile, along the -walls. "They've never seen an air-breather—that's you—in empty space, -and they don't believe it will be fatal. You don't mind if they watch, -do you?"</p> - -<p>Mac could hold it in no longer. "Kittrell," he blurted, "you're crazy -as a coot!"</p> - -<p>Kittrell, wading through Kiddies whose faces shone an excited red, -turned a surprised stare. "I've been afraid of that," he said worriedly -over his shoulder. His long fingers pressed a stud by the 'lock, -and the inner valve whined open. "You see, that's the trouble with -narcophene. You know what's happening to you, but you just don't give a -damn. God, it's cold in this 'lock!"</p> - -<p>He stood there, one foot on the coaming of the 'lock, peering around -the dark, icy chamber. The lawman braced his back to the wall, shoved -up. "It's a hell of a death, Kittrell," he said, his voice strained.</p> - -<p>Kittrell replied dreamily. "Is it? I don't know. It isn't bad. It's -clean, at least, and the worms don't get you." Absently he fended -off the crew of impatient, crowding Kiddies. He stared silently into -nothingness, for a long minute.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>MacCauley found he could reach his pocket, and his heart tried to -impale itself on his palate. Eagerly he tore more flesh from his raw -wrists, strained his fingers to plumb the depths of the pocket. A -weapon—anything.</p> - -<p>And his fingers found nothing. He remembered; that this was the pocket -the dead asterite had picked; nothing there but a slit.</p> - -<p>On the automatic return trip, his fingers, numbed by disheartenment, -sent a message to his brain; a message of cold. He disregarded it for a -split second.</p> - -<p>Then, just as Kittrell was opening his mouth to speak, the correct -interpretation of that coolness penetrated Mac's consciousness. -Desperately he fumbled at the thing that was woven to his broad belt: -wrenched at it with every atom of strength at his command. It came -free; he twisted suddenly and something metallic jingled musically -in the far corner of the 'lock, sending vibrations through the grid -flooring to be picked up by the Palladians. The jingle of metal—and -the Kiddies loved metal insanely!</p> - -<p>"Money!" roared MacCauley. And, "Money! In the 'lock! Copper—metal! Go -get it!"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="306" height="500" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Kittrell vanished, washed into the airlock by an overflowing wave of -Palladians. Hands fumbling desperately behind him for the control -switch—where was it!—Mac cursed his stiff, ineffectual fingers and -his inability to see behind his back. He touched a switch—no, not that -one!—and another, jabbed at it. Motors hummed softly, the scrambling -noise died away as the inner door swung shut—so slowly!—and then for -a second the only sound in the chamber was the harsh sobbing of Mac's -breath as he slumped weakly against the chill metal wall.</p> - -<p>Until that semi-silence was broken by the descending siren-scream of -the outer door's opening, abruptly terminating in a <i>whooosh</i> as the -last molecules of air tore into the vacuum without, dragging with -irresistible force at the chunks of matter, living and dead, that tried -to obstruct its passage....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"And that's the story." MacCauley turned away from the recorder. -"Here's the notebook I found among Kittrell's things." He flipped a -thin, black pad at the major. "I think you'll be able to break the code -easily enough, as there are enough names known for you to work on. It -seems to include his whole organization."</p> - -<p>Major Copeland glanced at the cabalistic signs incuriously, then -ticketed the book and slipped it into a pneumatic tube.</p> - -<p>"What bothers me," he complained, "is why Kittrell didn't claw his way -out of the 'lock. Sounds to me as though he had plenty of time."</p> - -<p>Mac gestured inquiringly at his superior, received a nod, and with a -sigh unclipped his Sam Browne. "Kittrell? Probably stumbled and slammed -his head against a rivet." He stood up suddenly, savagely snubbed out -a freshly lit cigarette. "Oh, hell! I'll tell you what I really think, -Major—I don't believe Kittrell tried to get out of there. I don't -think he cared, and I haven't forgotten what he said about dying that -way."</p> - -<p>"Could be," Copeland agreed. "And what did you say that stuff was that -saved your life?"</p> - -<p>Mac smiled. "Money, of a sort. You know where I was stationed last -year?"</p> - -<p>"Some place on Earth, wasn't it?"</p> - -<p>MacCauley nodded. "China. Got to know some of the people there. Got -kind of chummy with one of them; she gave me a present when I left, as -a keepsake. A string of what they call "cash." It's a kind of money -they used to use; square pieces of copper with holes in the middle. Had -'em strung together and sewn onto a belt. Well, you know how Palladians -feel about copper." His eyes crinkled again. "That was a pretty good -keepsake—not worth much, but it bought my life."</p> - -<p>Both men were silent for a while. Then, "What are your plans now, -MacCauley? I've recommended you for promotion, to fill Kittrell's job -on Pallas. You'll get a higher rating, more pay—and all the time in -the world to yourself."</p> - -<p>MacCauley shook his head. "Sorry, Major," he said, "But that's not what -I want. My plans are extra-special. Say," he went on, sitting down -and staring earnestly at Copeland, "have you ever heard the story of -how Manhattan Island—that's part of New York City—was bought from -the ancient Indians? Twenty-four dollars' worth of junk beads—that's -what they paid the Indians for it. Now the land is worth billions of -dollars—a square foot of it brings the best part of a million."</p> - -<p>"So?" The major was interested but lacked comprehension. "What's that -got to do with your resignation?"</p> - -<p>MacCauley smiled. "A lot," he answered. "Did it ever occur to you that -intelligent salesmanship can do wonders? And did you ever think of the -possibilities that you could realize on Pallas with—say—a couple of -dozen thousand dollars' worth of copper and other metal junk?"</p> - -<p>The major looked startled. "No—not till now," he added, understanding -dawning. "And what you're going to do is—?"</p> - -<p>"What I'm going to do," MacCauley beamed, "is convert reward money into -junk. And then, Major, I'll begin to convert the junk—into a kingdom. -I'm going to buy up a world—a wide-open world—with a boatload of -scrap metal!"</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Asteroid of the Damned, by Dirk Wylie - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTEROID OF THE DAMNED *** - -***** This file should be named 62168-h.htm or 62168-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/1/6/62168/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - - - -</pre> - -</body> -</html> diff --git a/old/62168-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/62168-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 70ea89a..0000000 --- a/old/62168-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62168-h/images/illus.jpg b/old/62168-h/images/illus.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index cddb69f..0000000 --- a/old/62168-h/images/illus.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/62168.txt b/old/62168.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 86a8a4e..0000000 --- a/old/62168.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1280 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Asteroid of the Damned, by Dirk Wylie - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Asteroid of the Damned - -Author: Dirk Wylie - -Release Date: May 18, 2020 [EBook #62168] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTEROID OF THE DAMNED *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - ASTEROID OF THE DAMNED - - By DIRK WYLIE - - Somewhere on that asteroid of sin - lurked the crime king of the Universe. - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Summer 1942. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -"Sorry, son," MacCauley said with the barrel-scrapings of his patience. -"I said no and I meant it. I haven't got anything to give you. Now -please stop waggling at me and go." - -The excited glitter of the Palladian's luminiferous eyes died -dispiritedly. MacCauley turned his back on the slight-bodied asterite -and rapped his thumbnail against his drained glass. The bartender, a -heavy and humorous man, expertly refilled Mac's glass with oily, musky, -milk-white synthetic liquor and said: "This Kiddie bothering you? Scat, -you, or I'll see that you never get into this place again." - -Mac shrugged as he watched the stripling strain to catch the -bartender's meaning by reading his lips, then mournfully disappear. -"No more than they all do," he answered. "What's the matter with them, -anyhow? They're positively nutty on the subject of money." - -The bartender shook his head and snatched a quick drag on a smoldering -cigar-stub. Replacing it on a ledge, he said: "Not money so much. You -couldn't bribe a Kiddie with a certified check for a couple of billion -dollars. They're not bright, exactly; they don't regard paper as worth -anything. It's metal they want. If it happens to be precious, that's -all right, but any kind of metal will do. What they're really crazy -about, of course, is silver and copper. They'll do just about anything -for it, including murder and treason." - -Mac, listening too intently, gulped a bit more of his drink than -even his spaceman's gullet could take. When the red-hot lava stopped -strangling him and he could see once more through the streaming -fountains that had been his eyes, he managed to choke out: "What do -they want it for? Do they eat it?" - -The bartender laughed. "Nah. They don't really eat anything. They drink -some kind of stuff they find in the rocks--like they used to find -petroleum, on Earth. Radioactive, this stuff is. That's all they need -to live on. They don't breathe at all. You can see that; they don't -even have a mouth or a real nose, just a sort of trunk that they drink -through.... Wait a minute. Be back." - -The bartender rolled away. A couple of new customers had come into his -side of the bar and were demanding attention. - -Mac sighed and glanced at his watch. But the bartender was back and -ready for more talk before Mac had made up his mind to leave. The -bartender wanted to talk because this was a dull night in the cafe -attached to Pallas' largest gambling-room; for the same reason, -MacCauley wanted to leave. He was here on business. - - * * * * * - -However, he might need to know something about the natives of Pallas -for his business. And he really was shockingly uninformed about the -creatures who inhabited the free-port asteroid. Other than that they -were called Kiddies, looked like seven-year-old Earthly children, and -didn't breathe, he really knew nothing. - -"Then what do they do with this metal if they don't eat it?" he asked. - -The bartender shrugged. "They probably know, but they're too dopey to -be able to tell you. I asked one of them once--he wrote out an answer, -the way they always do when they want to tell you something. Seems they -generate electricity in their bodies. A Palladian's idea of a real good -time is to take a hunk of pure copper and hold it in his hands. The -current runs from one hand to the other. They are like that. This one -claimed that each metal gave them a different kind of thrill." - -"All right if you like," MacCauley said absently. "Me, I'll take my -jolts out of a bottle." - -"Was that an order for another drink?" The bottle was already in the -fat man's hands. - -MacCauley nodded, and glanced again at the time. He swallowed the -poisonous liquor as fast as he could manage; then took one last quick -look around the bar to make sure. - -Yep, he was wasting time here. The place was practically empty. - -He paid his check in Earth-American dollars, and passed on to the main -game room. - -Like everything else in Pallas, it was completely underground, with a -purely artificial atmosphere. Artificial, in fact, was the word for -Pallas. Everything about it was synthetic; there wasn't a figment of -reality to be found in it. All that Pallas had to offer visitors was -freedom from most of the more pressing laws of the more civilized--and -larger--worlds. That, and the Kiddies, the peculiar race that had been -found on the small asteroid when the first space-explorers got there. -Everything that Pallas had, it owed to the fact that, in essence, it -had nothing. No minerals worth the cost of extraction; no agriculture; -no science; no artifacts; no history. It was so totally useless that -the major worlds of the system had declared, "Hands off!" And to -that fact Pallas owed the liberality of laws that made it a refuge -for fugitives from the Tri-Planet justice, as well as a planet-sized -gambling den. - -MacCauley curled the tip of his nose when he got a whiff of the -atmosphere. It had been bad enough in the bar--thin, moist air, -representing a compromise between the atmospheres of Earth, Mars -and Venus; enjoyable to the members of none of the races from those -planets, but just barely breathable to all. That atmosphere, even when -pure, was obnoxious. And here, in the densely-packed main hall, it was -really foul. There was something about Venusians, Mac decided, that he -didn't like. It wasn't their fault, of course, that they had evolved in -a wet climate, and had distinct auras of unearthly B.O. in consequence -of their need to perspire. But it wasn't his fault, either, and he -didn't see why he should suffer for it. - - * * * * * - -Mentally holding his nostrils, he waded into the reek and halted by -a magneto-roulette table. A casual observer, MacCauley hoped, would -think he was engrossed in watching the game. Actually he was carefully -scrutinizing each of the score of players and spectators at the table. -Somewhere in this motley mob made of the dwellers of a half-dozen -planets there might be a cool, level-headed, thoroughly dangerous -man, the brains of the syndicate that was flooding Earth and Venus -with narcophene. That drug was the most formidable in the history of -narcotics. You chewed it--if you were insane or ignorant!--and you felt -nothing but a pleasant coolness on your tongue. There weren't any mad -hallucinations of grandeur; you never lost consciousness of what you -were doing or who you were. Just, without your consciously realizing -it, you felt better all around. Things that should have worried you -sick seemed trivial; you could laugh at the specter of sickness or -agony or anything, however fearsome that endangered or injured you. -The drug had a certain medical value; it was used to prevent total -insanity in persons suffering from utterly incurable and horribly -painful diseases. For with them it didn't matter that the narcophene -habit was permanent, once acquired; they didn't have to fear the mental -and moral and eventually physical collapse that was bound to come. They -were as good as dead anyhow. - -But for others.... - -And the man who had reorganized the once-smashed industry of -manufacturing and smuggling it was on Pallas now. That much the home -office of Tri-Planet Law knew, and had told Mac. That was all their -best operatives on the inner planets had been able to dig up, and from -that point onward ... nothing. Those who could have told more were -addicts, and those who had tried to tell more were dead. Murdered. - -There was a TPL office on Pallas, of course, but it was a one-man -outfit. And the one man seemed thoroughly incompetent, for this job, at -least. His reports had shown him to be unable to even begin the job of -tracking down the man. Hence, MacCauley. - -For the sake of appearances, MacCauley threw a bill on number 28, lost -it, and moved on. Nobody in the neighborhood of that table corresponded -to the vague physical description he'd been able to glean from the -scanty reports. - -Nor, he found, did anyone in the house. That didn't prove anything, of -course, except that the man Mac was after wasn't at this particular -place at the time; or, naturally, that the description MacCauley'd been -given was wrong from the ground up, but that wasn't a thing to think -about. - -He shrugged and moved toward the exit. The room was packed worse than -ever; he had to shove his way through. He kept bumping into people, -he noticed--then looked around. It wasn't so much that he was bumping -into people, he found, as that people, represented by the Kiddie, were -nudging him. - -"Oh, for the Lord's sake!" he cried tiredly. "I tell you I won't give -you anything. Now get away from me. And stay away, if you want to keep -living." - -The Kiddie shrank into himself and seemed to whimper voicelessly. The -glow-glands set around his eyes shone a pinkish purple of fright. He -started to say something--in the primitive sign-language that his race -used to communicate with aliens--but halted the gesture and abruptly -turned and slunk away. His slight frame, the size and appearance of -a seven-year-old boy's, vanished almost immediately in the pack of -hulking Venusians and attenuated, pallid stick-men from Mars. - -MacCauley didn't pursue him; there was no reason, of course, for him to -do so. - - * * * * * - -But that, "of course," like so many others, was wrong. There was a -definite reason for Mac to follow the metals-mad asterite. Mac found -the reason when he reached the cloakroom. He reached in his pocket to -tip the pretty Terrestrial check-girl--and found not even a pocket. -Just a slit that had been made not more than ten minutes before, -through which the pocket itself and contents had been neatly extracted. -Presumably by the Kiddie. - -"Damn!" was the best Mac could do, but he said it with feeling. He -was casting about in his mind for something he could say to the girl -that might make her forget about tips when he saw the Kiddie himself, -luminescing a vivid green, scuttling out the front door. - -"Hey!" he yelled, and it wasn't only a desire to get away that kept -the Kiddie from looking around; he couldn't hear any more than he -could speak. Language failing, Mac took stronger measures. He left his -sport-silk jacket on the arm of the bewildered girl and sprinted after -the Kiddie. Intercepting him just previous to the door, he swung the -Palladian around and gestured with frantic anger. The Kiddie, with a -surprising show of strength in so frail a body, attempted no answer or -denial of the charge of theft, but wrenched himself free and darted out -the door. - -Mac, following, met the inevitable. When the luck of the MacCauleys ran -bad, it stayed bad--or worse. He collided with a fat and pugnacious -drunk. Not only collided with him but knocked the wind out of him. -If it hadn't been that the drunk had an equally drunk and volatile -companion, that would have been all right. As it was, Mac found -himself on the receiving end of a pale, knuckly Venusian fist. - -He was flat on the floor before he realized he'd been hit. Then began -the real trouble. - -Somebody yelled, "Oh, boy! A fight!" and leaped joyously on Mac with a -pair of magno-caulked spaceman's boots. What happened after that got -worse and worse. Everybody in the gambling joint seemed to have mayhem -in their hearts. Practically to a man, they poured out and joined in -the free-for-all. Half the floating population of Pallas seemed to have -come to rest on MacCauky's solar plexus by the time he heard the soft, -popping noises from the weapons of the house's private army of bouncers -and trouble-shooters. When MacCauley next found himself able to look -around he was out in the half-hearted illumination of the street, sick -and weak from the effect of the gas pellets which had quelled the riot. - -And without a penny to his name. - - * * * * * - -It would have been foolhardy to have left his money in the "safe" at -the hotel, though there was slight comfort in that thought. One place -was as good as another on Pallas, where laws were made for the sheer -pleasure of violating them; the native Palladians, shifty and unmoral -as they were, were hopelessly outclassed in dishonesty by the civilized -men of the inner planets. The one law all respected was the law of pure -and applied force. - -Mac fumbled a crumpled cigarette from his pocket and thought miserably -of going to the police. Miserably, because the native police force was -a joke and a mockery, maintained more to put the squeeze on innocent -foreigners than for any other reason. Which shows how naive the -asterites were; there was nothing innocent about most of the foreigners -that came to the tiny planet. - -Even the TPL post on the asteroid was powerless, shackled by diplomatic -necessities to the pretence that the thick-witted Palladians were -capable of running their own world. "Hands off!" was the watch-word. - -His swollen eyes squinting at the fluoro-flame lamps set in the rocky -ceiling of the tunneled street, MacCauley sighed heavily, feeling the -full weight of his predicament. - -All his money had been on him. All that was left of his money was a -memory and a neat little slit just under the zip-seal flap of his hip -pocket. And on Pallas, where it was dog eat dog and the devil help the -one who lacked a full set of teeth, money was the means of obtaining -dental attention. - -Yes, Mac was in a mess, for all his kit, including the last can of -Terrestrial cigarettes, were in the hotel room; even his blasters, -the slim, wicked pistols that projected a vibratory pencil-beam that -destroyed flesh and neural fibers and left the brain watery pulp, were -locked up in that dark little rat-hole up near the top of Pallas' -single, buried city. Mac was weaponless, except for a tempered bronze -knife in his shirt, on an outlaw world where a swift attack was the -best insurance against sudden death. - -His hotel bill was payable every twenty-four hours, and his period of -grace had expired. Pallas being first and foremost a gambling planet, -it wasn't at all uncommon for a man to check into the best suite a -hotel could offer, his money-belt fat and heavy with a half-million in -platinum credits; leave in the early afternoon for a little fling at -the tables, and come back in the evening asking apologetically if he -might borrow the price of a shave so he could look nice on the trip -back home. - -For that was the rule: no money, out you go and your baggage held -by right of a lockout. Everything on Pallas was operated by the -same ruling--cash strictly in advance. And to make sure that no -floaters were left to the dubious charity of the planetoid, there was -another standing rule. A law, this time; a duly enacted law of the -Palladian legislature and the sole ordinance that was enforced by the -foreign-sponsored native authorities. - -Before a visitor was admitted to Pallas, he was first made to post a -bond equal to his passage back home. And that could not be touched or -refunded until he left. - -MacCauley groaned aloud and looked about him. Walking blindly and -without thinking, very easy in the light gravity of low-powered -magna-gravs, he had entered a part of the sealed city new to him. - - * * * * * - -He was in the native quarter, at the planetoid's core, where the -asterites were as thick as red dust on Mars--and for the first time Mac -saw a Kiddie policeman. He was wearing no more clothing than the rest -of his kind, just carried a staff of office, like the old Bow Street -Runners. - -An idea suddenly made contact in MacCauley's mind. He signaled the -officer and dragged out a notebook and pencil, unnecessarily, as it -happened. The Kiddie, in sinuous gestures, signified that he could -understand English, partly by lip-reading, partly by picking up the -sound in some weird fashion through rock-conduction and the sensitive -soles of his splay feet. - -Mac, enunciating carefully, spoke. - -"One of your people has robbed me. I want him arrested. Where do I go?" - -The Kiddie bobbed his head, and from the manner in which his -luminiferous glands sparkled balefully, it was evident where he thought -MacCauley should go. Nevertheless, he snapped out _his_ little pad and -stylus, and scrawled: "Commi wih me tu Offic he wil arange arest." - -MacCauley deciphered the scribble. He shrugged and said, "Okay. Hop to -it, sonny." He walked beside the diminutive policeman for a few hundred -feet, glancing incuriously at the small burrows which pierced the rock -walls and kicking away chunks of the queer, spongy rock on which the -Kiddies subsisted, the equivalent of Earthly garbage. - -He should have thought of the cops before, he realized. The Kiddies, -as a race, were not numerous, and he could probably bully them into -finding the thief and recovering his money. After all, why not? - -He soon found out. The lolling half-breed Venusian interpreter who -loafed around the ratty, worm-infested police station heard his -complaint and deftly translated it for the benefit of a moth-eaten -Kiddie who seemed to be as much in charge here as anyone else. -MacCauley drew an easy breath, his first in two hours, and then-- - -The interpreter sing-songed, "Forty Earth-dollars, please. Filing fee." - -MacCauley's eyes narrowed. The old squeeze play. "Don't be a sap," he -said flatly, his thin lips tight against his teeth. "I haven't got -forty cents. That little louse took everything that was in my pocket." - -The Venusian smirked, and regarded his greenish, webbed hand with -great interest. "That is very bad, my friend," he said, and flicked a -flea from a fold in the skin of his wrinkled wrist. "Here on Pallas we -have a law; the citizens must be protected. When a foreigner makes an -accusation against a citizen, it is quite possible that he is wrong, -and a great injustice will have been done. As you know, there is only -one way to soothe a Palladian ... money." - -MacCauley cursed bitterly, harsh, biting oaths. "All right," he said -then, forcing his tone to evenness. "I'll sign a guarantee of the -money. When you catch this pickpocket, you'll reclaim the money; then -I'll put up the bond pending trial." - -By great effort the interpreter managed to look shocked. "That is -absurd. You must pay now; if the Palladian is innocent, he will not -have the money. No, it is impossible." - -"If he's innocent it'll be because you caught the wrong guy. Why, by -all the Plutonian Ice Devils, should I have to pay for your mistake?" - -The green-skinned man smirked again. "It is the law. The law is very -strict. If you do not like it, you can go back to the planet you came -from." And he turned away, busying himself with some important-looking -papers, dusty and much-handled. MacCauley was not too preoccupied to -note that the blubbery Venusian was holding them upside-down. - -MacCauley socked his balled fist into his palm and wondered if pacing -the littered floor would help. He was now, he assured himself, in the -worst of all fixes. The time he'd been trapped between two hostile -groups of Mercurians who were settling a private argument with -quarter-mile lightning bolts was a pleasure compared to this. Then he'd -had his guns, at least, and no restrictions about using them. - -He had to have his kit. Which meant getting his money back. It was -necessary, he decided, to play his trump card. He hadn't wanted to -reveal himself as a free-lancing TPL man; word would be sure to leak -out. But he certainly couldn't accomplish anything otherwise; the -chance of recovering the credits, and eventually his _materiel_, was -nil without some sort of aid. And that was what he could get only by -showing these small-time constables that he was Mr. Law himself. It may -be also that he was motivated by justifiable conceit in TPL itself. - -"Okay," he snapped suddenly, startling the pudgy hybrid with the -sharpness of his voice. "I guess there's no point in keeping under -wraps any longer. Let me tell you who I am...." - - * * * * * - -Twenty minutes later, as he stumbled out of the warped stone building, -he was wondering dazedly why his TPL affiliation had done him no good. - -Tri-Planet Law was an organization that had considerable history, nor -could all of it be written. It was the most potent single force in the -history of any planet of the Solar System, figured any way you like. It -was the only force whose rule was hardly ever challenged. - -When you broke the law within the territories mandated by TPL, you did -so with the very greatest caution. And you never tried to fight back if -you were caught. It wasn't really a large organization, relative to the -vast throngs of intelligent life that swarmed the System. It was only -a tiny decimal of one per cent of the entire population of the thirty -inhabited globes. But when you consider that the total census showed -more than a hundred billion individuals of high enough brain-power to -be rated sentient, you can understand that a fraction of a per cent -does mean close to a hundred and thirty thousand persons united into -the best-organized police and military force that a hundred trained -social technicians could evolve. - -That is why MacCauley couldn't understand the fact that the half-breed -interpreter had practically laughed in his face. - -True, TPL's hundred and thirty thousand of personnel were largely on -the planets of Earth, Mars and Venus, plus their possessions and allied -states. TPL had no standing here, officially, but the organization -had a de facto reign over all of space by virtue of the fastest and -best-armed space-ships made. And Pallas, dependent upon the transient -trade, certainly shouldn't be able to afford to anger representative -of the body that ruled the space-lanes. - -Something, Mac decided, was thoroughly rotten in the local checking -office of TPL. Something that might show why the operative on Pallas -hadn't begun to be able to find the man or men behind the narcophene -racket. - -MacCauley hadn't shown himself there before because he didn't want -himself identified with the Law group. Now that he'd uselessly exposed -himself, that obstacle was nullified. - -He'd found out where the place was just so he could avoid it. Pausing a -second to puzzle out its probable direction, he started off. - -It was close, of course; nothing was far from anything on Pallas. -Within five minutes he was standing outside the building, rubbing his -chin and deciding that he could stand a wash-up before going in. - -Like most of the asteroid's structures, this one seemed to have been -made by a blind moron for his elder brother's fifth birthday. Stepping -gingerly to avoid bringing the ceiling down about his ears, he made for -the washroom. - -The Kiddie attendant was scrunched up in a corner, luminescing happily -over a former airlock handle. "Hey!" Mac said uselessly. A wadded paper -towel brought better results, and the Kiddie glanced up. - -Of course, it had to be the Kiddie who lifted Mac's roll. The gods of -chance saw to that. In a trice Mac had backed the frightened Kiddie -into a corner, looking rather threatening what with his grim expression -and the bronze knife suddenly sprouting from his fist. He was fumbling -for the gesture that would convey, "Gimme!" to the asterite when the -interruption came. - -"Having fun?" - -Mac dropped the Kiddie and spun around, automatically reaching for a -blaster that wasn't there. "Who the devil are you?" he snarled. - -The long Terrestrial newcomer leaned gingerly on a soot-covered -washstand and frowned. "Me? I work near here. Who are you?" He stuck a -cigarette in his taut lips, pinched the tip and inhaled sharply as it -flared bluely. - -Something clicked in MacCauley's memory. Remembrances of long rows of -files, photographs.... The TPL agent for Pallas. He said, "You're -Kittrell, right?" - -The long man nodded. "I might be," he said, "if you're somebody that's -got a right to know. So what?" He hadn't moved but his posture seemed -subtly altered, caution in every line of his frame. From the position -of his hands, Mac more than suspected he was armed. - -Easing his hands behind his back, he twisted the stem of his -wristwatch. Kittrell jumped. "Hey!" he exclaimed. Sparks were fairly -snapping from the blazing dial of his own heavy, old-fashioned -timepiece--the recognition signal of TPL operatives. "I guess I am -Kittrell," the man acknowledged. "They told me they were sending -someone from the Narcotics division to take over on that narcophene -business. You him?" - -"Yeah. Right now I'm having trouble of my own, though. This Kiddie -rolled me last night. Every cent I had; I can't even get back to my -hotel." - -"Rolled you?" Kittrell's eyes widened. "I know this fella. He cleans -up around the office. Wait a minute." His thin, pale hands flashed in -intricate motions, meaningless to Mac. They were significant to the -Kiddie, though, for he replied as rapidly. Kittrell nodded. "I wouldn't -have thought it of him. Always thought he was too stupid to rob anybody -over ten." - -That was a pretty dubious remark, Mac thought, but he ignored it. "Do -you suppose you can make him cough up?" - -"Sure!" The other smiled cheerfully. "Like this!" - - * * * * * - -Mac was unprepared for the next move. Kittrell pulled his punch, of -course, because he didn't want to kill the frail Palladian, but his -heavy fist bounced the Kiddie off the floor and flung him to the base -of the wall. He lay there, his glow-glands jetting crimson beams of -fear and rage. - -"Hey!" cried MacCauley. "Don't murder the poor son! That's no way to -get my dough back!" - -Kittrell stared. Then a shadow passed over his face and he seemed to -lose interest. He shrugged. "Have it your way. What do you want me to -do--adopt him?" - -"Ask him what he did with the money. Tell him he can have the metal -stuff; all I want back is the bills." - -Kittrell, looking disgusted, semaphored the message. Kiddie faces -don't react as a human's does, but MacCauley was pretty sure there was -gratitude glowing on this one's knobby features. After a couple of -seconds' gesticulation, Kittrell looked around. "He says he's sorry -he took it. If you come with him he'll give you the money. He's got -it stashed away in the sty he lives in, a little farther along this -corridor." - -"Will he do it?" - -Kittrell shrugged again. "Guess so. Anyway, you're bigger than him--or -don't you like rough stuff?" - -That, MacCauley thought, was hardly a friendly remark. He resolved -to take it up later; after all, it wasn't his fault that he was -superseding Kittrell. There really was no cause for jealousy in the -long man. "Coming?" Mac asked. - -Kittrell shook his head. "Got to go back to the office for a minute. -I'll drop around in about ten minutes, though." - -"Okay," said Mac, satisfied, and went out behind the Kiddie. - -The Kiddie's dwelling was ugly and cluttered, but moderately clean. - -The little asterite, with somewhat the attitude of a man who expects -a poke in the face, gestured to Mac to be seated on a hassock-like -affair. MacCauley rumbled: "Sure I'll sit down. I'll stay right here -until I get my dough back." - -The Kiddie seemed to shrug resignedly; probably he just gave that -impression from his general demeanor. He slipped away into another -room. Mac just had time to think of the possibility that the Kiddie had -made a getaway when he was back again, holding MacCauley's billfold. - -Mac counted it swiftly. "Where's the rest of it?" he grunted. The bills -were there, but there had been about two dollars in change--gone now. - -The Kiddie looked scared but shook his head. "Won't tell me, huh?" Mac -blustered. "How would you like to be put away for robbery? I swore out -a complaint against you today; if I turn you over, it'll be a long time -before you get out." - -The Kiddie looked more frightened than ever; he was practically -trembling. Mac was encouraged, but surprised by the reaction to his -threat--it shouldn't have been so great. He lived to regret the fact -that he didn't find out just why the Kiddie was so affected by the -threat of imprisonment. - -"All right," he went on. "Suppose I let you keep the metal. Suppose I -pay you well, get you lots more. Gold and silver dollars. You'd like -that, wouldn't you?" - -From the Palladian's sudden attitude of dog-like devotion, it was more -than clear that he would. - -"Okay," Mac said. "I'll pay you one hundred dollars in silver quarters, -if--" - -The Kiddie was ablaze with interest. Not taking his eyes off Mac, he -scuttled crab-wise over to a tablette, snatched up a notebook and -scrawled: "Il do anyhin wat do yu wan." - -Mac grinned. "Fine. Listen carefully now. I'm looking for an Earthman. -He's somewhere on this planet, but I wouldn't know him if I saw him. -He is about two inches taller than me; weighs maybe two hundred -pounds--a little fatter than I am. He's blind, practically, in one eye. -That's all I can tell you, because those are the only things he can't -disguise." - - * * * * * - -The Kiddie seemed suddenly reluctant, but was persuaded by a gesture of -Mac's--a gesture that cost him dear, as it turned out. - -"Here," he said, to seal the bargain. "Here's an advance for you." -Dexterously he flipped his knife from some recess of his shirt and -presented it to the Kiddie. - -Ecstacy was clearly shown by that Kiddie. His glow-glands fairly spat -large orange sparks of joy. The tempered bronze--it was made of that -metal only to avoid magnetic spotters--wasn't much good for cutting, -but it certainly was a conductor of electricity. - -"Well?" MacCauley said, growing impatient. He tapped the engrossed -Kiddie and repeated the question. The asterite bobbed his head and -pressed a stud on his pad. The writing vanished, and he was scribbling -again. - -"Hello there!" boomed a new voice from the doorway. "What's going on?" - -MacCauley whirled. Kittrell was standing there, beaming broadly. "Hi," -Mac said. "We were wondering--Hey! What the hell!" - -Kittrell's eyes had narrowed and a snarl flashed out on his face. With -the fastest draw MacCauley had ever seen, he snapped out his gun and -blasted-- - -Not MacCauley. There was a stomach-squeezing hiss of sizzling flesh -behind Mac. He spun again, to see the Kiddie, his shoulder and half his -neck gone, slumped to the floor. - -Mac knelt swiftly beside him. Dead as a Ganymedan Secessionist. "Now -what the hell did you do that for?" Mac demanded. "I was on the trail -of something hot." He stared at the pad and stylus that had dropped -from the dead asterite's limp hand. - -"I kni the man yu wan he is th." That was all it said. - -"_That's_ a big help," said MacCauley, confronting the other man, who -was strangely tense. He thrust the tablet at him. "Now what do I do?" - -Kittrell scanned it briefly, and relaxed a bit. "It looked bad to me," -he explained. "There was that damned Kiddie with a knife in his hand. -He had it up to throw at you--or me. Can't take chances." - -Mac sighed, resigning himself to continued hard luck. "We all make -mistakes, I guess," he said. Then, hardening: "But you've made your -last boner on this case. From now on stay the hell away from me. I -don't like you and I don't like the way you do things." He moved toward -the door. Kittrell, lounging across it, obstructed his path--just -enough to stop him. - -"Where're you going?" the bigger man asked. - -"To report this," Mac snapped. "You'll get out of it all right." - -"Don't report it." - -"Why not?" - -Kittrell grimaced distastefully. "Too much red tape. What the devil, -who'll know we were here?" - -Mac snorted and filled his lungs preparatory to telling Kittrell just -what he thought of him. There was a sweetish, balsam-like taste to the -air, like the smell of a fir forest. - -Or like the smell of narcophene. - -He had picked up the knife; still had it in his hands. While he was -still figuring things out, his hand swept up with the knife still in -it, pressed against Kittrell's abdomen. Kittrell's draw had been fast. -Maybe he was naturally gun-slick--fast enough, maybe, for a lightning -draw like that to be natural to him. Maybe he was, but maybe he was -just burning up the years of his life twice as fast as normal under the -influence of the drug. - -"If you don't want your gut slit, Kittrell, keep your hands where they -are!" Mac grated, his voice suddenly gone flat and hard. - -Kittrell's hand had fluttered toward his shoulder holster; it stopped -as Mac spoke. - -"I don't know whether you're really Kittrell or not--probably you are," -Mac muttered. "But if you're in TPL now, you'll be out pretty soon. As -soon as I tell them you're a hophead." - -Kittrell's face had gone white. Other than that there was no change as -his bleak eyes bored steadily into MacCauley's. "What are you talking -about?" he said evenly. "Take that thing out of my stomach." - -"Oh, no!" Mac shook his head decisively. "You killed one of my -witnesses; you'll take his place. You're going to tell me how to find -the guy that sells you the narcophene." - -"Sorry," said Kittrell, tautening still more, "but I can't." At the -last possible second his eyes flicked behind and over Mac's shoulder. - -The thing that hit MacCauley on the back of the neck first didn't quite -knock him out. He was stunned, but in the half-second before the next -blow jolted him into complete darkness, he heard Kittrell conclude, -most casually: "You see, I _am_ the guy who sells the narcophene." - - * * * * * - -A shiver rippled along Mac's spine, and another one. That was his first -waking impression. He was cold, frozen stiff, he decided next, when his -limbs failed to react to the stimuli of his neural commands. As the fog -cleared away from his aching head he discovered that his hands were -tightly bound behind him, hobbles on his feet to keep him from walking -far or fast. - -Not that he could have gone anywhere much. He was in a bare little -metal room, lying on the grating that supplanted decks in most modern -spacers. Not much point in getting up, he realized, and merely hitched -himself into a more comfortable position in a corner, moving as well as -he could under the unaccustomed drag of full Earth gravity. - -He was in the lock-room, the chamber before an airlock. He felt vaguely -unhappy. Whatever was coming, he was sure he wouldn't like it. - -Behind him a heavy door eased open. Boots thumped hollowly on the -grids and a familiar voice sounded, echoing from the bare metal walls. -"Hello, MacCauley. How's the head?" - -"Go to hell," Mac suggested. He craned his neck and stared full into -Kittrell's face. There was a curious mixture of emotions there; faint -sorrow, an unpleasant sort of crooked leer, and an air of boredom--each -was visible. Kittrell shrugged. - -"I guess you know what you're up against?" - -"Sure." MacCauley tried to shrug, too, but succeeded only in tearing -a patch of skin from his wrists where the wire bonds were tightest. -"You're going to shove me out." - -"I'm afraid so. Believe me, I'd rather not. I think you're a good chap; -once I wanted to be like you--loyal to the service. They stuck me out -here and made a desk clerk of me, when I would have given my arm to do -some real work. I got a good salary; there was prestige enough whenever -I could get back to Boston and show off. It was a good job, in a way. -But there was nothing to do. Then I intercepted a load of narcophene. -Like everybody else, I thought I could beat it. I didn't. I tried it -and couldn't stop." - -He stopped abruptly and scanned MacCauley's face through narrowed eyes. -"You see how it is?" he questioned. - -MacCauley tried to stall for time. Tensing his chest muscles against -the bruises, he said, "Give me a cigarette, Kittrell? That's the -usual privilege of the condemned man." The lunatic obligingly popped -a brown-paper cylinder between his lips, squeezed the tip to light -it. Mac suddenly heard more footsteps, lighter ones but many of them. -"What's that?" - -"Just my Kiddies," the dope peddler explained, as a dozen of them -trotted into the room and ranged themselves, immobile, along the -walls. "They've never seen an air-breather--that's you--in empty space, -and they don't believe it will be fatal. You don't mind if they watch, -do you?" - -Mac could hold it in no longer. "Kittrell," he blurted, "you're crazy -as a coot!" - -Kittrell, wading through Kiddies whose faces shone an excited red, -turned a surprised stare. "I've been afraid of that," he said worriedly -over his shoulder. His long fingers pressed a stud by the 'lock, -and the inner valve whined open. "You see, that's the trouble with -narcophene. You know what's happening to you, but you just don't give a -damn. God, it's cold in this 'lock!" - -He stood there, one foot on the coaming of the 'lock, peering around -the dark, icy chamber. The lawman braced his back to the wall, shoved -up. "It's a hell of a death, Kittrell," he said, his voice strained. - -Kittrell replied dreamily. "Is it? I don't know. It isn't bad. It's -clean, at least, and the worms don't get you." Absently he fended -off the crew of impatient, crowding Kiddies. He stared silently into -nothingness, for a long minute. - - * * * * * - -MacCauley found he could reach his pocket, and his heart tried to -impale itself on his palate. Eagerly he tore more flesh from his raw -wrists, strained his fingers to plumb the depths of the pocket. A -weapon--anything. - -And his fingers found nothing. He remembered; that this was the pocket -the dead asterite had picked; nothing there but a slit. - -On the automatic return trip, his fingers, numbed by disheartenment, -sent a message to his brain; a message of cold. He disregarded it for a -split second. - -Then, just as Kittrell was opening his mouth to speak, the correct -interpretation of that coolness penetrated Mac's consciousness. -Desperately he fumbled at the thing that was woven to his broad belt: -wrenched at it with every atom of strength at his command. It came -free; he twisted suddenly and something metallic jingled musically -in the far corner of the 'lock, sending vibrations through the grid -flooring to be picked up by the Palladians. The jingle of metal--and -the Kiddies loved metal insanely! - -"Money!" roared MacCauley. And, "Money! In the 'lock! Copper--metal! Go -get it!" - -Kittrell vanished, washed into the airlock by an overflowing wave of -Palladians. Hands fumbling desperately behind him for the control -switch--where was it!--Mac cursed his stiff, ineffectual fingers and -his inability to see behind his back. He touched a switch--no, not that -one!--and another, jabbed at it. Motors hummed softly, the scrambling -noise died away as the inner door swung shut--so slowly!--and then for -a second the only sound in the chamber was the harsh sobbing of Mac's -breath as he slumped weakly against the chill metal wall. - -Until that semi-silence was broken by the descending siren-scream of -the outer door's opening, abruptly terminating in a _whooosh_ as the -last molecules of air tore into the vacuum without, dragging with -irresistible force at the chunks of matter, living and dead, that tried -to obstruct its passage.... - - * * * * * - -"And that's the story." MacCauley turned away from the recorder. -"Here's the notebook I found among Kittrell's things." He flipped a -thin, black pad at the major. "I think you'll be able to break the code -easily enough, as there are enough names known for you to work on. It -seems to include his whole organization." - -Major Copeland glanced at the cabalistic signs incuriously, then -ticketed the book and slipped it into a pneumatic tube. - -"What bothers me," he complained, "is why Kittrell didn't claw his way -out of the 'lock. Sounds to me as though he had plenty of time." - -Mac gestured inquiringly at his superior, received a nod, and with a -sigh unclipped his Sam Browne. "Kittrell? Probably stumbled and slammed -his head against a rivet." He stood up suddenly, savagely snubbed out -a freshly lit cigarette. "Oh, hell! I'll tell you what I really think, -Major--I don't believe Kittrell tried to get out of there. I don't -think he cared, and I haven't forgotten what he said about dying that -way." - -"Could be," Copeland agreed. "And what did you say that stuff was that -saved your life?" - -Mac smiled. "Money, of a sort. You know where I was stationed last -year?" - -"Some place on Earth, wasn't it?" - -MacCauley nodded. "China. Got to know some of the people there. Got -kind of chummy with one of them; she gave me a present when I left, as -a keepsake. A string of what they call "cash." It's a kind of money -they used to use; square pieces of copper with holes in the middle. Had -'em strung together and sewn onto a belt. Well, you know how Palladians -feel about copper." His eyes crinkled again. "That was a pretty good -keepsake--not worth much, but it bought my life." - -Both men were silent for a while. Then, "What are your plans now, -MacCauley? I've recommended you for promotion, to fill Kittrell's job -on Pallas. You'll get a higher rating, more pay--and all the time in -the world to yourself." - -MacCauley shook his head. "Sorry, Major," he said, "But that's not what -I want. My plans are extra-special. Say," he went on, sitting down -and staring earnestly at Copeland, "have you ever heard the story of -how Manhattan Island--that's part of New York City--was bought from -the ancient Indians? Twenty-four dollars' worth of junk beads--that's -what they paid the Indians for it. Now the land is worth billions of -dollars--a square foot of it brings the best part of a million." - -"So?" The major was interested but lacked comprehension. "What's that -got to do with your resignation?" - -MacCauley smiled. "A lot," he answered. "Did it ever occur to you that -intelligent salesmanship can do wonders? And did you ever think of the -possibilities that you could realize on Pallas with--say--a couple of -dozen thousand dollars' worth of copper and other metal junk?" - -The major looked startled. "No--not till now," he added, understanding -dawning. "And what you're going to do is--?" - -"What I'm going to do," MacCauley beamed, "is convert reward money into -junk. And then, Major, I'll begin to convert the junk--into a kingdom. -I'm going to buy up a world--a wide-open world--with a boatload of -scrap metal!" - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Asteroid of the Damned, by Dirk Wylie - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ASTEROID OF THE DAMNED *** - -***** This file should be named 62168.txt or 62168.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/1/6/62168/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/62168.zip b/old/62168.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 67de2d0..0000000 --- a/old/62168.zip +++ /dev/null |
