Thornwald had done his tour of duty for the
Solar Service; now it was time for him to retire
But a life of relaxation would not be simple on—
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
February 1957
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Looking around cautiously, Mac Thornwald eased himself down from thewindow ledge where he had been crouching. It was less than a ten-footdrop, but because of the pain in his left ankle he didn't dare to droptoo heavily. His right leg would have to take the brunt of the shock.
As he struck the plastosteel pavement, he clamped his lips togetherto cut short the moan of pain that welled up as his left foot twistedunder him.
He staggered a little and then straightened to look around. No one hadheard anything. The city around him was still silent. He still had achance. Only the ghostly whispers of the air-reptiles drifting throughthe sky could be heard.
Taking a deep breath, he reholstered the pistol he was clutching andbegan limping up the dark street toward the Governor's Mansion.
Eventually, the numbing pain began to leave his foot. The stun beam hadhit the nerves near the ankle, but the effect wore off after severalminutes of walking. Okay, he thought. I'm back in business again.The Governor of Bleekman's Planet had reckoned wrong when he tried totake personal property away from an ex-Patrolman.
MacKenzie Thornwald had landed on Bleekman's Planet less than eighthours before. He was a young man, tall and dark and hard-looking, withthe deep tan of the veteran spaceman. Ten years with the InterstellarPolice had strengthened him and taught him to take care of himself.
He'd still be in the service except for the loss of his left arm,which had been burned off by a Mark X rifle during a skirmish. Ithad earned Thornwald a medal and a fat retirement pension. So he haddecided to take it easy for the rest of his life.
He had picked Bleekman's Planet. It was well out of the more civilizedareas of the Galaxy, a frontier planet out on the Rim. Bleekman'sPlanet had, as yet, only one city—Velliston.
The setup had looked good. There was money to be made on a frontierplanet, away from the main stream of Galactic civilization. MacThornwald had wanted to settle down in a small, sparsely-populated areaand just take it easy the rest of his life. And Bleekman's Planet hadlooked like just the place.
He couldn't have been wronger. Trouble started the moment he got offthe space shuttle from the liner.
"Here you are, pal," the shuttle pilot said. "All set?"
"Sure," Thornwald said. He scooped up his baggage with his one good armand walked down the ramp. Behind him, the shuttle blasted off, headingback to the mother ship above. Thornwald paused at the landing, withhis suitcase dangling from his arm and his trunk at his side, lookingat the Bleekman's Planet Spaceport.
"Over here, you," said a cold voice.
Thornwald glanced over and saw two men approaching him in uniform."We're the customs inspectors," the taller of the two said. "We'll haveto look at your baggage."
"Fair enough," Thornwald said. "You'll find I'm not carrying anythingprohibited. I'm coming here to settle."
"We'll decide whether your stuff's okay," the smaller inspector said.The two men hoisted Thornwald's baggage and carried it to the depot.Thornwald followed.
"Let's have the keys," the tall one ordered. Mac handed over thekeys and they opened the trunk. The first thing they discovered wasThornwald's prosthet