Space Lawyer (14 page)

Jem stared hard at Kerry. "Where 're we going?" he growled. "To Ganymede."

"Ganymede! That's a long run, an' we got back from there only a month ago." He stared still harder. "Where else 're we going, Kerry?"

"Oh," the young man said vaguely, "planes alpha, beta, gamma." Then he grinned, slapped his mate on the back. "Sealed orders, Jem. Just you get the
Flash
shipshape for every possible contingency—and I mean every contingency—while I get my port clearance papers."

Jem gazed puzzled after his young owner, as Kerry hurried over to the field office. "There's trouble ahead, me lad," he communed with himself. "Every time Kerry talks like that, we land in a whole durned pot of it."

When the equipment began to flow on board, he was more than ever convinced that his hunch was right. His eyes widened at the ray guns, the hand weapons that hurled space torpedoes nosed with atomic warheads, and the recently invented impervious space suits. "Oh! Oh!" he exclaimed, "now I know we're in for it. But what the hell," he added philosophically, "that lad always manages to land on his feet." He swung on his crew. "All right, you space-drifters, get going," he roared. "We ain’t got all year ta powder our noses."

Sally Kenton was an intelligent young lady as well as a sight for admiring eyes. She could put two and two together and make a full-length volume out of it as well as the next one. As she sat in the aerocab, her thoughts clicked like well-oiled counters. The frown vanished; and she smiled. It was a pity to waste that smile on the darkness of the cab. "All right, Mr. Kerry Dale," she said softly. "As you yourself so nicely put it,
no holds barred."

Simeon Kenton looked like a Della Robbia cherub in his sleep suit; but his temper was definitely not on the cherubic side at being awakened from his beauty rest.

"It's bad enough," he yelled at his lovely daughter, "that you go gallivanting with that snipperwhacker of a Dale who's bent on driving me to my grave, but you've got to get me outa sleep to tell me about it."

"What a way," said Sally reproachfully, "to talk of your future son-in-law!"

Old Simeon stopped in midstream, looked keenly at his daughter.

"Eli, what's that?"

She looked demurely down. "Kerry Dale asked me to marry him."

"And you—"

"Told him I couldn't marry him until you approved."

Old Simeon's face was a moving panorama in which bewilderment chased astonishment and suspicion chased bewilderment.

"You told him
that?"
he gasped.

"Of course!" Her demureness was a sight to behold. "What else could I have said?"

The old man gulped, looked apoplectic, then suddenly calmed down. "All right, Sally," he purred. "What blamefoozled devilment are you up to now? Don't keep your poor old father standing here in his bare feet on tenterhooks."

She smiled fondly at him. "I really think you were right. Things have been too easy for him. He has to be taken down a bit . . . but he mustn't get hurt in the process," she added hastily.

Kenton exhaled gratification. "Ha! I always said you had a level head on your shoulders, Sally. You're a blick of the old chop; I mean—a chick of the old blop—oh, drat it, you know what I mean."

"I think I do, dad," she murmured.

he was wide awake now, eager. "But how 're we gonna take him down, Sally? He's a smart young man, ding drat him! Twice he's done me in already."

"I don't know the full answer; but let me tell you what happened."

She narrated the events of the evening rapidly and succinctly. When she had ended, Simeon merely stared. "Blame it all, I don't see a thing."

"Oh, dad," she said reproachfully, "you didn't make your way in the world by not seeing things. Let me try and put the pieces together for you. It was obvious an idea struck Kerry when I quoted that rather ridiculous phrase of yours about the beard of the comet's tail."

"It
wasn't
ridiculous," her father started indignantly; then subsided. "Go on, Sally."

She ticked off her points. "He stared at that new comet a while; then left me abruptly. I watched where he went. He went, dad, up to the observatory. Twenty minutes later he was back, excited. He hustled me down to Earth, dumped me at the space-port, and rushed off for the field office."

Simeon digested the sequence of events. Then: "I still don't see anything except that he's a strange young man."

"I'm surprised at you, father," she cried impatiently. "Kerry does nothing on impulse; meaning he has a motive for everything. just now his motive is to make a lot of money and prove to you that he can outsmart you any day."

"Why, the young blitherskite!" commenced Simeon in a rage; then grinned cherubically at his daughter. "Let him just try it again."

"He
is,
dad. There's something about that comet which smells like money; a
lot
of it. And they must have told him something in the observatory that made the smell so overpowering it caused him to ditch me at the space-port like a sack of meal."

Now if there was anything in the System further removed from a sack of meal than Sally, it had not been discovered yet. Awe and admiration struggled in old Simeon's face. "Sally," he said impressively, "you
are
a chip of the old block. There," he crowed delightedly, "I got it right that time! Ha-har-rumph!

We'll see fast enough."

His bare feet padded on the thick carpet toward the visiscreen. He flicked a switch. "Gi' me Professor Wilson at the Pleasure Dome Observatory," be snapped at the operator. "Simeon Kenton calling him."

The ascetic features and stooped shoulders of the astronomer swam on the screen, looked startled at the sleep-suited old man with his bare skinny shanks, and the lovely image of Sally in' the background.

"Mr. Kenton," he exclaimed. "This is . . . uh . . . an unexpected pleasure . . . at this hour—"

"What
hour?" demanded Simeon. "Ain't all hours midnight on the Pleasure Dome?"

Wilson permitted himself a faint smile. "Well, in a manner of speaking, it is. But—"

"You're right, Wilson. It's late here on Megalon, and getting later every minute. So let's get down to cases. That Comet X you've been keeping an eye on—what 've you found out about it you ain’t been telling the public or the Commission.

The astronomer blinked. "What a remarkable coincidence!" he gasped. "You're the third man in the last two hours to ask—"

Old Simeon's ears pricked up like a hunting dog's. "Eh? Who else has been asking besides Kerry Dale?"

Wilson's face fell. "So Kerry told you," he said sadly. "After I pledged him to secrecy."

"No, he didn't," snapped Simeon. "I have . . . ha . . . my own way of finding out. But who was the other fellow?"

"It doesn't matter much now," replied Wilson resignedly. "It seems everyone's due to know before the Commission itself. He was Jericho Foote."

"Aha!" snorted Kenton. "And double ha! That son of a Venusian swamp snake! And what did you tell these two special favorites, hey?"

Wilson explained his findings, much as he had given them to Kerry.

"Hmm, so that's it." Kenton's, mind was working so hard you could hear the wheels whir. "Do you think, Wilson," he asked finally, "that there comet's head has precious metals in it?"

"I don't know. The spectroscopic examination discloses elements either wholly unknown so far or existing under such unusual conditions as to distort their spectrum completely from the usual lines."

"Ha! Well, thank you, Wilson. Thank you a lot!"

"I suppose," said the astronomer with a mild sort of bitterness, "that I don't have to tell you to keep this . . . er . . . well-guarded secret from the newscasters."

"You certainly don't," chuckled Kenton.

"There, you see!" cried Sally as the astronomer's resigned visage faded from view.

"I certainly do," retorted her revered parent grimly. "Now lemme get the space port."

The night official was eager to tell the mighty Simeon Kenton everything—but
everything.

"Yes, Mr. Kenton, Mr. Dale is here now. He's been using a private booth steadily for the last hour. Shall I ask the operator to find out whom he's been calling?"

"Certainly not," snapped Kenton at the too-eager official. His was a hard code, but it was a fair one. No unethical tricks; no illegal methods. "But you
can
tell me if the young . . . ah . . . man is intending to blast off from Earth shortly?"

The official brightened from his rebuff. "Yes, he asked me for clearance papers for his ship, the
Flash.
He's taking off at noon today."

"Noon!" exclaimed Simeon. "And where for?"

The official scratched his head. "Come to think of it, he was pretty vague about it. But when I said he
had
to clear for a specific destination, he said Ganymede."

"Ha!" Simeon's face glowed with excitement, and Sally started. Ganymede, Jupiter's largest satellite, was the last port of call in the System. And Comet X lay beyond, outside the orbit of Saturn. "Noon, did you say?"

"That's what his papers will call for."

"Good. Well, much obliged to you."

"Ask him about Foote, dad," said Sally quickly.

"By the ring-horned moon, Sally, you're a gem. I clean forgot!" He swung back to the screen. "Is that Venusian . . . uh . . . I mean Jericho Foote, also getting ready to blast off?"
The official looked astonished. "Mr. Foote?" he echoed.

"Why, he left just an hour ago. In fact, he took off in his private ship about ten minutes before Mr. Dale came in."

"The devil he did!" exploded Simeon. "Destination Ganymede?"

"Why—why, yes, sir."

"And I suppose," purred Kenton, "he had his clearance papers prepared long in advance?"

The official hesitated; looked unhappy. "Why . . . hmm . . . no, sir. He came tearing in, explained it was an emergency. Some disaster on Ganymede to one of his ships. So I made out his papers immediately." He didn't think it proper to add that a thousand dollar bill had deftly changed hands in the process.

Kenton swelled like a bullfrog getting ready for its mating song. "Don't you know the regulations?" he yelled. "Eight Earth hours must elapse between application and clearance."

The official reddened, stammered. "Why, it—it was—er—an emergency."

"Emergency, my foot—and I mean, Foote! By God, don't you let that young—ha—Dale sneak off before noon, or you'll be out of a job so fast you'll wish you were on Pluto."

"I—I won't," said the official eagerly. But Kenton had already switched off, leaving the unhappy man wiping his brow and muttering: "Whew! No wonder they call him Old Fireball. Hmmm! Something's up that got the old man so mad." fie felt in his pocket for the comforting feel of the thousand dollar bill and returned jittery to his duties.

Sally looked in dismay at her parent. "So Jericho Foote got the jump on Kerry. He'll get to Comet X long before him. Poor Kerry!"

Old Simeon stared at her with a half-indignant, half-commiserating glance. It was difficult to determine which had the upper hand. Then indignation triumphed. "Har-rumph, Sally," he snorted. "You seem to forget that
both
were trying to steal a march on Simeon Kenton. Sneaking off to grab what's on that comet and laughing up their dingbusted sleeves at getting the better of me."

"But how can you stop Foote?" she wanted to know. "His private cruiser is as fast as anything you've got, dad. And if there's
anything
out there, he'll file on it long before you can get under way."

Most illogically she said nothing about Kerry Dale. For she knew very well that his
Flash
—a
remodeled old cargo ship—could be handily caught up with and left flatfooted in space by any one of a dozen ships at her father's disposal. Somehow or other, now that the showdown was on, she didn't feel happy about it.

Her esteemed parent grinned. It was an angelic grin; and when be made that saintly show on his features, it meant he had some particularly devilish idea in mind.

"Ha!" he chuckled. "I think yours truly can stop 'em both in their tracks."

"But how?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he flipped the visiscreen, barked into it: "Charles Melville; an' I want him dingbusted fast!"

The dignified chairman of the Interplanetary Commission was no more pleased than anyone else at being routed out of bed at the ungodly hour of three in the morning. "Well, what is it now, Simeon?" he demanded grumpily of his belated caller.

"Look, Charlie, your Commission's got jurisdiction over that new Comet X, ain’t it?"

"I—I suppose so. We've got jurisdiction over the entire

System. But—"

"Then let me tell you something you don't know yet. Comet X 's got a solid core of brand-new elements. It's liable to be the biggest thing that's come in the System since—since —har'—rumph—Pharaoh fished Moses from the bulrushes—or maybe it was the other way round. I don't remember."

"What's that?" exclaimed Melville, his grumpiness and his sleep completely fled. "Where'd you get
that
information?"

"Oh, I've got sources, Charlie. But," added Kenton virtuously, "I don't take advantage of 'em as some other people I know.
I
obey the rules and regulations of the Commission."

Melville stared suspiciously. This was a new one on him. Oh, to be sure, old Simeon never exactly
broke
a regulation; but he certainly knew how to twist and distort one until it amounted to the same thing. "Come clean, Simeon," he snapped. "What do you want now?"

"Only to see that your jurisdiction isn't flouted, my friend," purred Kenton even more virtuously than before, if that were possible. "Now, if I wanted to be underhanded, I could of said nothing an' sent a fast ship out to the comet to file on anything I could find of value, afore your Commission had a chance to lay down rules. But I ain't built that way. I'm law-abiding and I believe in acting fair and square, giving everyone the same chance. That's why I'm calling you now."

"Hmmm!" grunted the chairman. "There's something behind this I don't understand. But again I ask, come clean."