"It is the little death," they whispered. "When that
yellow mist starts creeping, you'll wish you were
dead, sir." Gavin Murdock, hardened manhunter, coldly
eyed the evil miasma rising through the mystery
spaceship and braced himself for unguessable horror....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Spring 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The Martian sniffed. "Frankly, Mr. Murdock, your account of yourself islaconic to say the least."
Gavin Murdock grunted, his eyes wary and unblinking. He didn't reply.
The Martian raised his eyes from the documents spread on his glassitedesk. He gave the sandy-haired Murdock a shrewd penetrating glance andsmiled dryly.
"Of course, we get very few men in the slave trade who care to talkabout themselves. We take that into consideration, Mr. Murdock. But anastro-engineer of your talents...." He glanced again at the papers onhis desk.
Murdock's pulse hammered suddenly in his throat. He swallowed dryly,but he still didn't interrupt.
"This discharge," the Martian went on. "I see you were employed asfirst assistant-engineer on the luxury liner Cosmos. That's UnitedSpaceway's crack ship. Would you care to tell me, Mr. Murdock, whatpersuaded you to apply for this post on the Nova?"
"Blacklisted," Mr. Murdock said succinctly. "Belted the old man in thenose. I've been on the beach here in Venusport ever since. None of theshipping lines'll touch me." He lapsed into silence again.
The Martian drummed long white fingers on the desk top.
"You realize, Mr. Murdock, that when you sign the Nova's articlesyou forfeit your citizenship on Terra? The Earth Congress issued aproclamation to the effect that any Terran employed in the slavetrade...."
"What d'you expect me to do?" Murdock interrupted with a wryexpression. He was a tall angular man in his early thirties. "Rot hereon Venus? I'm not thrilled at taking a third's rating aboard a Jovianslaver. But it's a job."
The Martian still hesitated, doubt registering on his paper-white,sharply-chiseled features.
At length he said, "Very well," in a dry tone. "You'll have to go tothe Commissioner's and sign the articles this afternoon. The Novasails tomorrow. I'll give you your orders in writing."
But he made no move to do so.
Gavin Murdock stiffened imperceptibly, an alarm pealing in his brain.The Martian, he sensed, was stalling. For what?
The space patrols, Murdock knew, had been making things plenty hot forthe slavers. The Empire had outlawed the slave trade three years ago.Her spacers were stamping out the traffic in Jovian Dawn Men whichflowed between Jupiter and Venus where slavery was still legalized.Decadent the Empire might be, but she still controlled space. Anyslaver caught with his half-human cattle beyond Venus' thousand milelimit was treated as a pirate.
The Martian was saying, "You understand, Mr. Murdock, there's noregular salary connected with this job, but as third assistant-engineeryou'll be entitled to a one-twentieth share of the profits of eachvoyage."
Gavin nodded. His glance flicked about the blank walls. He feltsuddenly like an animal in a trap.
The offices of Josiah Cabot, slaver, of whom the Martian was thebusiness representative in Venusport, were on the eighty-seventhfloor, well up in the swirling cloud blanket which sheathed the secondplanet like a glove. The offices were windowless and sound-proof.With an effort, Gavin put down the panic rising in his throat. It wasrid