Masters of the Galaxy

by Mike Resnick (ed)

  “And you sent Violet.”

  “I couldn’t go myself,” explained Bryson. “Hell, if I’m tailing my partner, he’s probably tailing me. Why give him or one of George’s hitters a free shot at me? So I sent the idiot.”

  “And she paid my partner off in New Warsaw drachmas.”

  He almost did a double-take. “You’re kidding!”

  “The hell I am,” I said. “Why do you think I’m here? I followed the drachmas back to Violet.”

  “Well, I hope to hell you don’t think I killed your partner so I could steal some money that would land me in jail the minute I tried to spend it.”

  “I don’t know why you killed my partner,” I said. “That’s what I’m trying to find out.”

  “Look, Jake,” he said earnestly. “I had nothing to gain from killing him. I even told her to call him off.”

  It was my turn to look surprised. “Explain.”

  “She checked in with me a few minutes after she hired him. The second she told me he was a Broskog, I realized that he’d be spotted in less than a minute. There can’t be more than five or six of them within twenty lightyears of the Iliad system. I wanted to know if my partner was meeting George, not to alert the whole fucking Alien Quarter that I’d put a tail on their boss.”

  “Then what went wrong?” I asked.

  “That’s what we’re going to find out.” He touched a spot on his desk. “Bring in Violet Ashwing.”

  “Right now?” said a disembodied voice.

  “Right now.”

  “You want her in your office?”

  “No, take her down to the basement and hook her up to the Neverlie Machine.”

  “She’s at her apartment?”

  He looked questioningly at me.

  “She was twenty minutes ago,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Bryson. “Let me know when she gets here.” He broke the connection. “This shouldn’t take long, and then we’ll solve the rest of the puzzle. Would you care for another drink, Jake?”

  “Later.”

  “You act like you don’t trust me,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to sound hurt. “I’ve shared my liquor with you, I’ve admitted that I’m a racketeer, I’m pulling in someone who can provide some answers about your partner’s murder. What more can I do to prove that I want to be your friend?”

  I thought about it. “Not much,” I admitted.

  “Did you drink with George last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you can drink with him, you can drink with me.” He snapped his fingers and the robot reappeared with fresh glasses. I downed mine, and he looked approvingly at me. “Now we’re friends.”

  “At least we’re not shooting at each other,” I said, handing the glass back to the robot.

  “Another?”

  I shook my head. “I’d like to be sober enough to understand what Violet says.”

  “In retrospect, I don’t know why I keep her around.”

  “Probably because you had proof she was a thief, and you promised to turn it over to her roomie if she didn’t do what you wanted.”

  “True,” he said. “But I have the same hold over dozens of men and women, and more than a few aliens as well. This one wasn’t pretty, wasn’t sexy, sure as hell wasn’t bright. I never gave her anything important to do.” He sighed. “I don’t know why I didn’t just shove her off a rooftop.”

  “She’d probably have had to ask directions on the way down,” I said.

  He threw back his head and laughed uproariously. “By God, I like you, Jake! I hope we never find ourselves on opposite sides.”

  “Just keep out of Homer and maybe we won’t.”

  “I don’t know if that’s possible,” said Bryson. “It all depends on my partner.”

  “Your partner is your business,” I said. “Someone’s still going to pay for mine.”

  “I’m sure someone will,” he replied.

  We were silent for a couple of minutes, and then he got word that Violet was in what the voice at the other end called the Interrogation Room.

  “You want to come along for this, Jake?” he asked.

  “Have you really got a Neverlie Machine, or are you just going to beat the crap out of her?”

  “We’ve got one,” he said. “Latest model.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.”

  We got into his private airlift and descended to the lowest level in the building. There were five men and a huge Torqual waiting for us, and we followed them to the Interrogation Room. The door irised and we stepped through. It was a smallish room, maybe twelve feet on a side, and right in the middle of it sat Violet, hooked up to the machine, which was attached to her left arm, her rib cage, and both her temples. Bryson signaled one man to stay and work the machine; the others all left.

  “Hi, Violet,” said Bryson pleasantly. “Thanks for coming in on your day off.”

  “Why is he here?” she demanded, jerking her head in my direction.

  “He has some questions to ask you,” said Bryson.

  “I already answered all his questions!”

  “He has some new ones. Just answer them truthfully and we’ll take you right back home, with a nice cash bonus for your time.”

  She glared at me balefully. “I thought you were going to keep it secret,” she said accusingly.

  “I said if you cooperated I’d keep it secret from Elana, and I will,” I replied.

  “You weren’t going to tell Mr. Bryson I gave you his name!” she snapped.

  “I didn’t,” I said. “He figured it out all by himself.”

  “Nobody’s that smart,” muttered Violet.

  “Now, Violet, I want you to understand,” said Bryson. “When you see that little light go on”—he pointed to the machine—”the Neverlie Machine will be activated. The first lie you tell will send an exceptionally painful jolt through your body. Each lie will give you a stronger jolt. I don’t think you could survive four lies, certainly not five.” Suddenly he smiled. “But why should you suffer at all? Just tell the truth, and you can be out of here in five minutes.” He turned to me. “Jake?” I stepped forward.

  “I want to make sure I’ve got this straight,” I said. “You hired Max—that’s my partner—to tail the Patrukan known as Goriejyxsol, is that correct?”

  “You know it is.”

  “Then, after he’d left the office and gone out on the job, you contacted Mr. Bryson here and told him what you’d done.”

  “Yes.”

  “Including that you’d hired a Broskog?”

  “Not right away. I just told him that I’d done what he asked, and he asked who the detective was, and I told him I couldn’t pronounce his name. Then he asked me to describe him, and I did, and he told me to call him off.”

  “How did you call him off?”

  “I couldn’t contact him myself,” she said. “He’d been gone fifteen or twenty minutes before I got through to Mr. Bryson, and I knew I’d never find him. But I knew he had to be in the Alien Quarter, because he was following this Patrukan who was supposed to be a big shot there.”

  “Okay, you couldn’t contact him yourself,” I said. “What did you do?”

  “Well, I knew Mr. Perrin—that’s Mr. Bryson’s partner—was on Odysseus, so I contacted him and asked him what I should do.”

  Bryson uttered a startled obscenity. “And what did Mr. Perrin say?”

  “He gave me the name of a Patrukan he said I could trust, and told me how to contact him, so I did.”

  “And what did you say to him?”

  “I told him that he should stop the Broskog who was following Goriejyxsol, that Goriejyxsol was not to be followed any longer. He asked me who gave me his name and I told him, and that was all I said. I was home less than an hour later.”

  “Thank you, Violet,” I said. “You did fine.”

  “Can I go now?”

  “Just as soon as you tell me the Patrukan’s name.”

  “I already told you—Go
riejyxsol.”

  Can you really be this dumb? I thought. Then I decided that she wasn’t that good an actress. “No, Violet. I meant the name of the one you contacted.”

  “Oh, him—Djarabaxtol.” The machine didn’t shock her, so I knew she had to be telling the truth.

  “Djarabaxtol?” repeated Bryson. “And Herb Perrin told you to contact him?”

  “Yes, Mr. Bryson.”

  “Okay,” said Bryson to the man working the machine. “Unhook her, give her a couple of thousand credits, and take her back to her place.” He and I left the room and went back up to his office.”All right, Jake. Now you know who killed your partner. You even know why: a stupid woman didn’t explain herself fully and he misunderstood her.” He frowned. “And I know my partner has been dealing with your friend George, or he’d never have a Patrukan from Homer’s Alien Quarter working for him.”

  “And he has to be working for your friend Perrin,” I said. “Otherwise he’d wouldn’t have killed Max without an explicit order from George.”

  “I assume you’re going back to Homer now?”

  “As fast as I can.”

  He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and shoved them into my hand. “You helped me out, and Jim Bryson remembers his friends.”

  I put the money on his desk. “I already have a client.”

  “George?”

  “My partner.”

  He extended a huge hand. “We did each other a good turn, Jake. You showed me my partner is trying to sell me out, and I showed you who killed Max. We should keep in touch. I’m sure we can do each other even more good in the future.” Another one of his trademark smiles. “For example, I can tell you when and where the next shipment of alphanella seeds is arriving in Homer”—alphanella was the most sought-after drug in the Democracy—”and you can introduce me to George.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I said. “In the meantime, what’s going to become of Violet?”

  “Do you care?”

  “Just curious.”

  “I thought I’d found a job even she couldn’t fuck up,” said Bryson. “I suppose I’ll look for something even simpler, or maybe pension her off.”

  “And Perrin?”

  “That’s a very personal question, Jake,” he said. “If you’re really curious, check the Ajax newscubes for the next week or two.” I figured the conversation was ended, so I walked to the door.

  “Remember, now—keep in touch,” he said as I walked out into the corridor.

  All the way down to the ground floor I kept thinking that I wouldn’t want to be Perrin.

  On the journey back to Homer I kept trying to decide what my next step was. If I turned Djarabaxtol over to the police, there was a good chance he’d beat the rap. There were no witnesses, and he probably had 50 friends who would swear he was nowhere near that alley all night. Besides, even if they found him guilty, he wouldn’t serve much time. The sentence for killing an alien was a hell of a lot less than for killing a Man, at least on primarily human worlds like Odysseus. On the other hand, if I took my vengeance myself, there was a very stupid woman in Ajax who could tie me to Djarabaxtol and had every reason to hope I’d take a fall before I could talk to her girlfriend again. And then there was another consideration: nobody killed anybody in the Alien Quarter without George’s permission. What if he wouldn’t grant it? And what if I killed Djarabaxtol anyway?

  Usually I find the zoomway relaxing, but this time I got off it even more tense than when I’d boarded it in Ajax. I’d used my burner when I had to, when I had to defend myself, but I wasn’t a cold-blooded executioner. Could I really walk up to a Patrukan who didn’t even know who I was, stick the muzzle of my pistol in his ear, and fire? And if not, what then? Was I going to call him out like a gunfighter of Earth’s Old West? I didn’t like any of the scenarios, and I knew I had to get straight in my head what I was and wasn’t willing to do before I confronted Djarabaxtol.

  Finally I realized that I’d been standing motionless on the zoomway platform, just staring blindly into space. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it, then took an airlift to the surface. Instead of going to my office or my apartment, I caught the slidewalk that took me to the Alien Quarter. I was going to ride it all the way to The Purple God when I saw Baro the Grub standing between a pair of buildings a block before reaching my destination. I hopped off and walked over to him.

  “Hello, Jake,” he said. “How was Ajax?”

  “You know I’ve been there?” I asked, surprised.

  “Nothing escapes my watchful eye,” said the Grub.

  “I didn’t know your watchful eye extended for 300 miles.”

  “It extends in all directions and dimensions, Jake,” he replied. “It even tells me that a certain Mr. Perrin’s life expectancy can be measured in days rather than weeks or years.”

  “Poor fellow,” I said. “Whoever he is.”

  “You have sought me out, Jake. How may I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Goriejyxsol,” I said. “Is he at The Purple God or his own place?”

  “He has seven places, Jake.”

  “I’m talking about the one he took me to last night. Don’t pretend you don’t know which one it was. You’ve got spies all the hell over the Quarter.”

  “You have not yet crossed my palm with silver.”

  “Read a different book, Grub,” I said. “You don’t have a palm, and they haven’t used silver for a couple of thousand years.”

  “But it sounds evocative,” said the Grub. “For 50 Far London pounds, all will be revealed.”

  “Come on, Grub,” I said irritably. “I’ll give you ten credits. Otherwise I’m just going to walk into The Purple God, and if he’s not there, I’ll ask where he is.”

  “You are abusing our friendship, Jake,” said the Grub. “Even an informer has to pay his bills.”

  “Twenty credits,” I said. “Take it or leave it.”

  He grabbed the money and put it into, well, not a pocket, because the Grub doesn’t wear clothes, but a slit in his skin, near the top of his rib cage, that functioned like a pocket.

  “The Roost.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “You went there last night, after you left The Purple God.”

  “Easiest twenty credits you’ve made all month,” I said, heading off for The Roost. When I got to the door a pair of Patrukans—not the same ones I’d seen the night before—checked me out, frisked me, took my burner, and then let me in.

  “Give him back his weapon,” said George, who was sitting at the same table we’d been at maybe twelve hours earlier. “This is an honorable Man. He will not use it on his friends.”

  One of the Patrukans walked up to me, returned my burner without a word, and went back to his post outside the door. “So, Jake,” said George. “Have you learned anything?”

  I nodded my head. “Yeah,” I said. “Are you going to deal with Perrin?”

  “No,” answered George, who didn’t look even a little bit surprised at the question. “He is not an honorable Man.”

  “Just between you and me, he hasn’t got much of a life expectancy either,” I said.

  “What did you think of his partner?”

  “Bryson?” I said. “Don’t take offense, but he reminds me a lot of you.”

  “If I enter into an arrangement with anyone, it will be with him.”

  “Have you met him?”

  “No. But I am aware of his reputation, and if a Man of your qualities says that he reminds you of me, then he is certainly preferable to Mr. Perrin.”

  “I won’t argue that.”

  “May I assume you learned more about Max’s death?”

  “I did.”

  “The killer works for me, doesn’t he?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It figured,” said George. “What do you propose to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “That’s what we have to talk about.”

  “I’m listening,”
said George.

  “I’d have no compunction about gunning him down if he was in the act of killing Max,” I began. “But I don’t know how I’d feel about tracking him down and killing him in cold blood.”

  “That’s because you are an ethical man, as well as an honorable one,” said George. “Of course, I abhor bloodshed myself.” I must have looked my disbelief. “Perhaps I should qualify that,” continued George. “I find murder distasteful, though occasionally necessary. That is why I have hirelings to do it for me.” He paused. “So what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Another consideration is that he works for you. If he turns up dead, there’s not going to be much doubt in your mind about who killed him.”

  “Ah!” said George with an alien smile. “Now we come to the crux of it. You still have not told me his name.”

  “I can barely pronounce it,” I said.

  “Try.”

  I nodded. “Djarabaxtol.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Jake,” he said at last, “I think I shall give you another present. The chocolate was for your friend. Djarabaxtol is yours.”

  “I don’t know if I want him,” I said.

  “I thought you wanted to avenge your partner’s murder.”

  “I do.”

  “Well?”

  “It’s not that simple, George,” I said. “If he tries to sneak into my house or my office, I’ll blow him away. If he picks a fight with me, I’ll do my best to kill him.” I paused. “But I just don’t think I can just walk up and shoot him, and I’ll be damned if I’ll turn him over to the police where a good lawyer can beat the rap or get him out in two years.”

  “I can see to it that he’s in a district where the local police owe me some very large favors,” offered George. “They won’t present any problem.”

  “I wasn’t worried about the police,” I said. “I’m worried about living with me.”

  “Integrity can be such a nuisance,” said George. “I assure you that Djarabaxtol wouldn’t hesitate a single second to kill you if he thought he had a reason—and even 50 credits would be reason enough.” He smiled that alien smile of his. “That is why I would never sell you out to him, while I have no compunction about turning him over to you.”