‘Not bad—in fact, I’m getting plenty good,’ Cloud admitted. ‘Come on up to the range sometime with a stop-watch and I’ll show you.’
‘I’ll do that. Right now—shall we?’
‘Uh-uh. Can’t. I’m due at the High Mayor’s Reception in
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twenty minutes, and besides, I want to breathe some air that hasn’t been rehabilitated, rejuvenated, recirculated, reprocessed, repurified and rebreathed until it’s all worn out. Happy landings, gang—I’ll be thinking of you while I’m absorbing all that nice new oxygen and stuff.’
‘Particularly the stuff—and especially the liquid stuff!’ Joe called after him just before he shut the door on his way out to join Thlaskin and Maluleme.
Going through customs was of course the merest formality, and an aircab whisked them into the city proper. Cloud really did enjoy himself as he strode along the walkway from the cab-park toward the Mayor’s … well, if not exactly a palace, it was close enough so as to make no difference. And he did attract plenty of attention. Not because of his dress or his build— most of the men on the street wore less than he did and many of them were just as trim and fit—but because of the nature and variety of his bodily colors, which were literally astounding to these people, not one in twenty of whom had ever before seen a Tellurian in person.
For Chickladorians are pink; pink all over. Teeth, hair, skin, and nails; all pink. Not the pink of red blood showing through translucency, but that of opaque pigment. Most of their eyes, even—queerly triangular eyes with three lids instead of two— are of that same brick-reddish pink; although a few of the women have eyes of a dark and dusky green.
This visitor’s skin, however, was of a color so monstrous it simply had to be seen to be believed. In fact, it wasn’t the same color in any two places—it VARIED! His teeth were white; a horrible, dead-bone color. His lips, hair and eyes— funny, round, flat-opening things—were of still other sheerly unbelievable colors—there wasn’t a bit of natural, healthy pink about him anywhere!
Thus the crowds of Chickladorians studied him much more intensively than he studied them; and Maluleme strutting along at his side, basked visibly in the limelight. And thus, except for the two Chickladorians at his side and except for the unobtrusive but efficient secret-service men who kept the crowding throng in hand, Cloud could very well have been mobbed.
The walk was very short, and at its end:
‘How long we got to stay, boss?’ Thlaskin asked, in spaceal. ‘As soon as we can get away we want to join our folks and grab
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a jet for home.’
‘As far as I’m concerned you don’t need to stay at all, or even come. Why?’
‘Just checking, is all. His Nibs sent us a special bid, so we got to at least show up. But he don’t know us from nothing, so after we tell him hello and dance a couple of rounds and slurp a couple of slugs we can scram and nobody’ll know it unless you spill.’
‘No spill,’ Cloud assured him. ‘You dance with Maluleme first. I’ll take the second—that’ll drive it in that she’s here. After that, flit as soon as you like. For the record, you’ll be here until the last gilot is picked clean.’
‘Thanks, boss,’ and the three, entering the extravagantly-decorated Grand Ballroom, were escorted ceremoniously up to the Presence and the Notables and their surrounding V.I.P.’s
They were welcomed effusively, Cloud being informed through several different interpreters that he was the third-most-important human being who had ever lived. He made— through two interpreters each checking the other’s accuracy— his usual deprecatory speech concerning the extinguishment of Iqose atomic vortices. He led the Grand March with the president’s wife, a lady whose name he did not quite catch and who, except for a pound or so of diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other baubles, was just as bare as Maluleme was. So was the equally bejeweled mayor’s wife, with whom he had the first dance. She was neither young or slender, nor was she sexy. Then, as agreed, he danced with Maluleme, who was—but definitely! —all three.
However, as he circled the floor in time with the really excellent music, he thought, not of the attractive package of femininity in his arms—who was one of his crew and Thlaskin’s wife —but of Joan. She’d been training down, he’d noticed, and wearing more makeup, since those other girls had come aboard. She was getting to be a regular seven-sector callout—he’d like to dance with Joan this way!
There were other dances; some with girls like Maluleme, some with women like Madam Mayor, most with in-betweens. There was food, which he enjoyed thoroughly. There were drinks; which, except for ceremonial beakers of fayalin with the president and the mayor, he did not touch. And, finally, there was the very comfortable bed in his special suite at the hotel.
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Instead of sleep, however, there came a thing he expected least of any—a sharp, carefully-narrowed Lensed thought.
‘This is Tivor Nordquist of Tellus, Commander Cloud, on my Lens,’ the thought flowed smoothly in. ‘I have waited until now so as not to startle you, not to make you show any sign of anything unusual going on. There must be no suspicion whatever that you even know there’s a Lensman on the planet.”
‘I can take care of my part of that. One thing, though; I’ve got exactly one week to work with you. One week from today any possible excuse for me staying on Chickladoria goes p-f-f-t.’
‘I know. One ‘day should button it up, two at most. Here’s the print. I’m a narcotics man, really but…’
‘Oh—Fairchild, eh?’
‘Yes. Ellington told me you’re quick on the uptake. Well, all leads to him via any drug channels fizzled out flat. So, since all these zwilnik mobs handle all kinds of corruption—racketeering, gambling, vice, and so on, as well as drugs—we decided to take the next-best line, which turned out to be gambling. After a lot of slow digging we found out that Fairchild’s gang controls at least four planets; Tominga, Vegia, Chickladoria, and Palmer III.’
‘What? Why, those planets cover …’
‘Check. That’s what made the digging so tough, and that’s why they did it that way. And you’re scheduled for Vegia next, is why I’m meeting you here. But to get back to the story, we haven’t got dope enough to find Fairchild himself except by pure luck. So we decided to make Fairchild’s mob tell us where he is.’
‘That’ll be a slick trick if we can do it.’
‘Here’s how. Somebody on this planet knows how to call Fairchild in emergencies, so we’ll create an emergency and he’ll do it.’
‘My mind is open, but I’m a bit skeptical. What kind of an emergency have you got in mind?’
‘Some of the details you’ll have to ad lib as you go along, but it’ll be, basically, bold-faced robbery without a blaster and with them jittery as glaidos because they can’t figure it. I was going to try to do it myself, but I can’t work without my Lens and I can’t come near the hot spots without their spy-rays catching the Lens and blowing the whole show. Doctor Janowick told Phil Strong that she could, without using her sense of percep-
tion and after only a short practise run, beat any crooked card game any gambler could dream up—something about random and nonrandom numbers. Can she?’
‘Um-m … never thought of it … random numbers … Oh, I see. Yes, she can. Especially the most-played one, that over-and-under-seven thing. And with a little telepathy thrown in, I can do the same with any crooked game they’ve got except a magnetically-controlled wheel; and I could do a fair job on that.’
‘Better and better. You and Miss Janowick, then; and be sure and bring Vesta the Vegian along.’
‘Vesta? Um … Maybe, at that. Adolescent Vegians not only can be, but are, interested in everything that goes on, everywhere. They’re born gamblers, and she’s alrady got a reputation for throwing money around regardless—and she’s rich enough to afford it. And in a winning streak she’ll stir up so much excitement that nobody will pay any attention to anybody else. However, things being what they are, I’ll have to be mighty careful about letting her go on a gambling spree.’
‘Not too much so. Just hint that you won’t fire her if she takes a fling or two at the tables and she’ll be so happy about it and love you so much that she won’t even think of wondering why.’
And so it proved. After a long discussion of details with the Lensman, Cloud went to sleep. The following afternoon he went back to the ship and sought out Vesta, whom he found slinking dejectedly about with her tail almost dragging on the floor. Scarcely had he begun his suggestion, however, when: