Chapter 10

“Can I speak with you a minute, spaceman?”

Roger turned from the automatic food dispenser and stared at a wizened little man standing beside him, grinning up at him toothlessly.

“What do you want?” asked Roger.

“Just talk. Let’s sit down at this table, eh?” said the little man, taking the cadet by the arm. “Gotta little deal I think you might be interested in.”

Roger cast a quick appraising glance over the shabbily dressed man and walked to the table. Unless someone knew Roger personally, it would have been hard to recognize him. No longer wearing the vivid blue of the senior Space Cadet, he was now dressed in black trousers fitting snugly around the legs, a midnight blue pull-over jersey, and the black-billed hat of the merchant spaceman. His once close-cropped blond hair was beginning to grow shaggy around the edges, and with the hat pulled low over his forehead, he might have been another person entirely.

Leaving the space station on the jet liner had been easy for Roger, since no one suspected he would violate his trust. But once his absence was discovered and the warrant issued for his arrest, it had been necessary for him to assume some sort of disguise to elude the Solar Guard MP’s. Roger had wound up on Spaceman’s Row in Venusport as a matter of course. Luckily, when he left the station, he had the foresight to take all of his money with him, so he was not yet in need.

On Spaceman’s Row, Roger found the new freedom from discipline enjoyable at first, but now the novelty had worn off. Having visited all of the interesting places on the Row, existence there had become boring. His one attempt to leave Spaceman’s Row had nearly met with disaster. Running into a squad of Solar Guard MP’s, he had made a hurried escape into a near-by jet taxi. Back on the Row, Roger had lounged around the cafés, feeling the loneliness that haunts men wanted by the law. And only because he was so lonely he had agreed to talk to the little man who sat and stared at him from across the table.

“You a rocket pusher, astrogator, or skipper?” asked the little man.

“Who wants to know?” asked Roger cautiously.

“Look, sonny boy,” was the quick retort. “I’m Mr. Shinny! I’m the fixer of Spaceman’s Row. You want something, come to me and I’ll get it for you. I don’t care why you’re here. That ain’t none of my business. But the fact remains that you’re here, and you don’t come down here unless you’re in trouble space deep!”

Roger looked at the little man more closely. “Suppose I am in something deep? What could you do for me?” he asked.

“What would you want done?” asked Shinny slyly.

“Well,” said Roger casually, “I could use a set of papers.”

“What happened to your own?”

“Solar Guard picked them up,” answered Roger simply.

“For what?” asked Shinny.

“Taking ice cream away from the skipper’s pet monkey!” snapped Roger.

Shinny threw back his head and laughed. “That’s good--very good!” He wiped his mouth after spitting at a near-by cuspidor. He reached over and patted Roger on the arm. “You’ll do, sonny! You’ll do right well on the Row. Join me in a little acceleration sport?”

“What’s that?” asked Roger.

“Rocket juice!” said Shinny. “Ain’t you never heard of rocket juice?”

“I’ve heard about it,” said Roger with a smile, “and I’m still here to talk about it because I never drank any of it.” Roger liked the little man for some reason--he couldn’t tell why. He had met several people on the Row since his arrival, but they had all wanted to know how many credits he had and where he was staying.

“I took a jolt of that stuff once in Luna City,” said Roger. “I was ready to blast off without a rocket ship!”

Shinny laughed again. “Good lad! Well, you won’t mind if I have just a little one?” He paused and wiped his lips. “On you, of course!”

“One”--Roger held up his finger--”on me, of course!”

“Hey, there!” yelled Shinny. “You, with the asteroid head! Gimme a short bucket of that juice and bring a bottle of Martian fizz along with it!” The bartender nodded, and Shinny turned back to Roger. “Martian fizz is nothing more than a little water with sugar in it,” he explained.

“Yeah, I know,” replied Roger. “What about those papers?”

“I’ll talk to you, spaceman to spaceman,” said Shinny, “when you’re ready to talk to me, spaceman to spaceman!”

They were silent while the bartender slopped a glass full of bluish liquid in front of Shinny and the bottle of Martian fizz and a glass in front of Roger. Roger paid for the drinks and poured a glass of the mild sweet water. Sipping it silently, he suddenly put the glass down again and looked Shinny in the eye.

“You know who I am,” he stated quietly.

“Yep!” replied Shinny. “You’re Roger Manning, Space Cadet! Breach of honor and violation of the Spaceman’s Oath. Escaped from the Venus space station on a jet liner. But one of the best men on a radar scanner and astrogation prism in the whole alliance!” Shinny related the information rapidly.

“He had known all the time,” thought Roger. “He was testing me.” Roger wondered why.

“What are you going to do about it?” questioned Roger, thinking about the one-thousand-credit reward, standard price offered by the Solar Guard for all wanted men.

“If I had wanted to, I could have bought the finest jet liner in space with money made on Solar Guard rewards,” snapped Shinny. “We got our own spaceman’s code here on the Row. It goes something like this. What a man wants to bring with him down here, he brings. What he don’t bring, don’t exist!”

Roger smiled and stuck out his hand. “All right, Mr. Shinny! I want a set of papers--space papers! Made out in any name, so that I can get out into space again. I don’t care where I go or on what, or how long I’m gone. I just gotta blast off!”

“You want papers for the astrogation deck, or control, or as a power pusher?” asked Shinny.

Roger thought a moment. “Better make them for the control deck,” he said.

“Credits,” said Shinny. “You have any credits?”

“How much?” asked Roger.

“One hundred now,” said Shinny, and then added, “and one hundred when I deliver.”

“Guaranteed papers?”

“Positively!” snorted Shinny. “I don’t sell things that ain’t good! I’m an honest man!”

Roger reached inside his jersey and pulled out a small roll of crumpled credit notes. He counted off one hundred and handed them over to Shinny.

“When do I get the papers?” asked Roger.

“Tomorrow, same place, same time,” answered Shinny.

“What’s the name of this place?” asked Roger.

“Café Cosmos.”

Roger picked up his glass of sweet water, raising it in a toast to the little man in front of him. “Until tomorrow, Mr. Shinny, when you come here with the papers, or I come looking for you with bare knuckles!”

“You don’t scare me!” snapped Shinny. “I’ll be here!”

Roger tilted his chair back and smiled his casual smile. “I know you’ll be back, Mr. Shinny. You see, I really mean what I say. And more important, you know I mean what I say!”

Shinny got up. “Tomorrow, same time, same place,” he said, hurrying out the door.

Roger finished the bottle of Martian fizz, suddenly very depressed. He didn’t really want the false papers. He just wanted to get away from the deadly humdrum existence on Spaceman’s Row. He walked wearily back to his scrubby little bedroom to wait for night to come. He hated to go back to the room, because he knew he would think about Tom and Astro and the Space Academy. Now he couldn’t allow himself to think about it any more. It was past. Finished.

“You got who?” asked Loring.

“I said I got the best astrogator in the deep for ya!” snapped Shinny.

Loring looked at Mason and then suddenly burst out laughing, dropping his head on the table.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Shinny. “You got space fever or something?”

Mason, sitting quietly in the dirty hotel room, was grinning from ear to ear.

“So you got Manning for us, eh?” repeated Loring at last. “I wanta tell you something, Shinny. I was the one that got that kid to break outta that space station!”

“You what?” asked Shinny. The little spaceman had come to like the straightforwardness of Roger.