d’Alembert 2 – Stranglers Moon – E. E. Doc Smith

STRANGLERS’ MOON

Volume Two of The classic Family d’Alembert series

By E.E. ‘Doc’ Smith

With Stephen Goldin

CHAPTER 1

Predators and Prey

The Golden Crater Casino was unquestionably among the largest and plushest gaming

palaces in the Galaxy. Its reputation for the exotic and the exciting was fully earned, as

the briefest of walks down its crowded corridors and across its even more crowded

rooms would reveal. People were jammed elbow-to-elbow in some places in their

fanatical attempts to lose money to the House. Women in abbreviated costumes roamed

the floor, ostensibly employed as photographers, waitresses and the like-though it was

common knowledge that a fifty ruble bill would procure other services from them as well.

The great and the near-great mingled at the tables, amid throngs of those who were

merely wealthy but had aspirations toward greatness. Here a sensable star brushed

against a countess; there a corporation president bumped into a famous news

commentator. Rank and social distinction were of little importance in the casino; the only

question of interest was how well could a person gamble and was luck on his side today.

Yet even as notorious and plush as it was, the Golden Crater was considered merely

routine by comparison to other “establishments” on Vesa, the moon that billed itself as

the “Playground to the Galaxy”-and which cynics called a variety of other names.

Nils Bjenden, a banker from the planet Lindstrom, stood to one side of a doorway looking

with distaste across the crowded room. This chamber was so jammed with people that

he had difficulty seeing the other side. The ceiling arched high above his head, and on it

was projected a kaleidoscopic light show that continually changed colors with the

changing noise level in the room. But he had not come here to look at the ceiling, he had

come to gamble-and the mob on the floor was packed so densely that he could not see

so much as a single gaming table.

“I told you we should have gotten here earlier,” he said to his wife Karen, who stood

beside him and looked as bewildered as he felt. Nils found he had to yell to be heard

above the room’s din, even though his wife was only centimeters away. “But you wanted

to stop and eat first. We should have left when I wanted to.

“I didn’t know it would be this crowded,” she apologized.

A stranger who’d been standing behind them came to the woman’s rescue. “Don’t blame

her, gospodin. The Golden Crater is like this around the clock. Vesa is `the moon that

never sleeps,’ you know; these casinos are ample proof of that.

Nils grunted noncommittally and would have walked away, but Karen struck up a

conversation with the man who’d saved her from a tongue-lashing. “You seem to know a

lot about it. Do you live here on Vesa?”

The stranger laughed. He was a tall, thin man with brooding eyes and a dark complexion.

His clothing was almost as conservative as Nils’s, comprising a lightweight brown jacket

and flared pants, a stiff white shirt and a gold sash tied about his waist. “No, gospozha, I

don’t think I’d care to. It’s all too hectic, too busy; I’d go crazy in two weeks. I do travel a

lot, though, and I come here fairly often-every couple of months, at least.

“This is our first time,” Karen gushed. “I’ve been wanting to come for years and years-it’s

not as if we couldn’t afford it. But Nils-my husband-is a banker, and he’s always busy

with one deal after another. You’d think the entire planet would fall apart without him

there to look after it. I finally had to put my foot down and tell him that we were going to

Vesa, now, or else.

“Hmpf,” snorted her husband as he craned his neck to look over the throng of gamblers

on the floor. “Some vacation it’s been, too. I haven’t had a moment to relax since we got

here. There’s always people, people, people. What did you say your name was, again?”

“Lessin,” the stranger replied. “And if you think it’s crowded here you should see what it’s

like down on Chandakha.

It took a moment for Karen to realize what he was talking about. The moon Vesa was so

famous that many people forgot there was a planet it circled. “Oh yes, I remember

reading something about it on our trip out here. They’ve got an overpopulation problem,

haven’t they?.

“That’s putting it mildly.” Lessin closed his eyes and shuddered, as though recalling some

personal nightmare. “Things are so bad down there that the people are little more than

animals sometimes.

His tone made Karen shiver. “Then I’m just as glad I’m up here, among civilized people.

“I’m not,” Nils grumbled. “I should never have left Lindstrom, not with that big deal about

to go through. I don’t like the thought of having to fight my way through that mob just to

get near a table and do a little gambling.

“I quite agree,” Lessin said amiably. “I much prefer the private clubs, myself. If I hadn’t

promised to meet a friend here, I’d be at one of them right now.

“I didn’t know there were any private clubs,” Karen said.

“Well, they certainly don’t advertise-that’s how they manage to stay private. They like to

avoid crowd scenes like this one here.

“What are these private clubs like?” Nils asked. “They’re much smaller, more intimate

places. Couple dozen people at most, and the atmosphere is more relaxed. The stakes

can vary from moderate to high, depending on where you go, of course.

“Would there be any chance of our going to one of those places?” Nils asked. “There

sure as hell isn’t going to be any action for us around here.

The stranger hesitated. “Well, they are for members only. . . . .

“You’re a member, aren’t you?.

“Nils! You have no right to impose on this man,” Karen complained.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I was about to continue that the clubs are for members and their

guests. I was going to be taking my friend to one, but,” he looked at his ringwatch, “he’s

more than half an hour late right now. If I know him, he’s probably picked up one of the

floorgirls and has forgotten all about me. I hate going places by myself. In fact, I had just

about decided to invite you two nice people to come along with me.

“Yes, that’s more the spirit,” Nils said, rubbing his hands with gusto. It was obvious he

preferred the thought of a quiet, dignified evening of gentlemanly gambling to the raucous

atmosphere of the Golden Crater.

“It sounds lovely,” Karen added.

“Fine, then it’s all settled. Just give me a moment to get my cape from the checkroom

and I’ll be right back with you.” Lessin smiled at them and moved off quickly toward one

side of the chamber.

“We were lucky to meet him,” Karen whispered to her husband. Her low voice was just

barely audible above the noise of the casino. “He certainly seems to know what he’s

about.

“Very good sort,” Nils agreed.

Their newfound friend was back three minutes later, a full-length brown fur cape draped

elegantly over his tall, handsome frame. “Shall we be off?” he suggested.

As they left the casino and the door shut behind them, the drop in noise level was an

immense relief. They faced one of the broad traffic corridors that carried the bulk of

Vesa’s public transportation. Being an airless satellite, all life on Vesa existed

underground in the vast hollowed-out chambers and tunnels that honeycombed the moon.

This tunnel was one of the major “arteries” and dozens of electric vehicles went past

them each minute.

“Thank goodness,” Karen said in the comparative quiet of the corridor. “I thought I’d burst

an eardrum in there.” “It’s not too long a ride to the club,” Lessin said. “Let me see if I

can flag down a jit.” He stood on the curb and waved at a likely looking vehicle.

A large shuttle lumbered in their direction. This was one of the buses, or “jits,” that were

the universal method of transportation on Vesa. Jits were privately owned and operated,

acting as combinations of cabs and busses; they could pick up passengers at will and

take them anywhere on Vesa, without regard to fixed schedules. Tiny computers built

into the driver’s controls calculated the fare from the point of pickup to the destination.

This jit was obviously an old one, judging from all the paint peeling off its six-meter length.

The glass in four of its windows had large cracks. As it pulled to a stop beside them, the

group on the curb could see the vehicle’s occupants-half a dozen seedy-looking men

wearing dirty clothes. Most of them were in need of a shave. They leered out the

windows at the well-dressed trio.

Lessin waved the jit away. “That’s a problem you’d better be warned about if this is your

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