Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from the September 1953 issue of Galaxy Science Fiction. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
This planet gave him the perfect chance to
commit the perfect crime—only he couldn't
remember just what it was he had committed.
DELAYED ACTION
By CHARLES V. DeVET
Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS
t was just a hunch. Johnson knew that, but his hunches had often paidoff in the past, and now he waited with a big man's patience. For fivehours he sat in the wooden stands, under the rumpled canvas theconcessionaires had put up to protect the tourists from Marlock'syellow sun.
The sun was hot and soon Johnson's clothing was marked with largesoiled patches of sweat. Now and then a light breeze blew across thestands from the native section and at each breath his nostrilscrinkled in protest at the acrid smell.
Marlock wasn't much of a planet. Its one claim to fame was itswidely advertised Nature's Moebius Strip. For eighteen months of theyear—nine months of sub-zero cold, and nine months of sultry,sand-driven summer—the only outsiders to visit the planet came to buyits one export, the fur of the desert ox. But during the two months offall and two months of spring the tourists poured in to gape at theStrip.
Idly, for the hundredth time, Johnson let his gaze run over thetourists lining up for their "thrill" journey out onto the Strip. Mostof them wouldn't go far; they only wanted to be able to say they'dbeen on it. They would build up some pretty exciting stories about itby the time they returned home.
There was no sign of Johnson's man.
he party started out onto the Strip. At the first sensation ofgiddiness women squealed and most of them turned back. Their men camewith them, secretly relieved at the excuse.
Johnson watched disinterestedly until only two remained: the youngcouple he had designated in his mind as honeymooners. The girl hadgrit. Perhaps more than the young fellow with her. He was affectingbored bravado, laughing loudly as the girl hesitated, but whitestreaks had appeared along his jawline and across his temples as hewaited his turn.
The young couple had gone far enough out now so that they were in thefirst bend of the Strip's twisting dip. Already their bodies wereleaning sharply, as the mysterious gravity of the Strip held themperpendicular with their pathway. From where he sat Johnson could readnausea on their faces.
When they had followed the Strip around until they were leaning at a35-degree angle, the girl seemed to lose her nerve. She stopped andstood gripping the guide rope with both hands. The boy said somethingto her, but she shook her head. He'd have to show his superiority nowby going on, but it wouldn't be for much farther, Johnson was willingto wager.
The boy took three more steps and paused. Then his body bent in themiddle and he was sick. He'd had enough.
Both turned and hurried back. The crowd of tourists, watching orwaiting their turn, cheered. In a few minutes, Johnson