by Andre Norton
Hats!" Patrol-Colonel Ursula Cohn's blue-gray eyes fixed the younger woman in no friendly fashion. "That's some tale you expect us to believe, Doctor Cofort."
"I hope I'm wrong, Colonel, for the sake of the unknown number of men and maybe women who I think died in that wretched place," Rael replied evenly, "but I don't think I am. The evidence is circumstantial, but it's there,"
"And you're the only one who happened to spot it, just picked right up on it, a stranger to Canuche of Halio and her ways?"
"My comrades can attest to the fact that my sense of smell is very acute. I'd been near heavy concentrations of port rats before and knew the odor, but I'd never come across anything so perceptible as that at a distance in the open air. There simply wasn't a mundane explanation to account for it. If the beasts were present in sufficient number to create a pack nest of the necessary size, they'd be all over the city, to the point that they'd represent a severe and immediate threat to human survival. Commercial starships would certainly be warned off until they could be exterminated. Since none of that was the case, I could only deduce that a vast number of rodents were being purposely kept confined close by under anything but the cleanest conditions. There're no industries or legitimate laboratories in Happy City as far as I knew to require the creatures, nor could I imagine any experimenting on that scale. I was completely baffled." Her mouth hardened. "Until Rip mentioned the clean-up."
"Clean-up?"
"Your agents saw it. Nobody washes a step and a ragged patch beside it."
"You or I wouldn't," the other corrected. "Navy-standard cleanliness is not a characteristic of those alleys. Mostly, the worst mess is just scraped away to satisfy the basic sanitary code."
"There would be more than one nasty patch, wouldn't there, after any normal night? There weren't any more scrubbed spots and no untouched messes that I saw, or any older residue, either. To judge by that absence and the pattern of frame stains, it looked like that whole section of the alley had been cleaned, really gone over, in odd patches at one time or another over a considerable stretch of time."
"So you came up with a scenario to explain all the anomalies?"
The tawny-haired spacer nodded. "The motive I don't know, but I can picture the events all too clearly. Some poor bastard meeting the criteria for a victim is gotten very drunk and maybe drugged to render him, or her, helpless or sick and is pushed or flung out back the moment the police or Patrol have made a swing by the alley. The rats are either waiting or are immediately released. They've obviously been accustomed to their work, and they're great enough in number not to need much time to complete it.
After a few minutes, they're recalled, maybe fed again as a reward to ensure their speedy return, and the few remaining scraps are swept up. There isn't even much blood left, and the pavement doesn't absorb the stain, at least not if it's mopped up quickly enough."
"Yeoman Roberts went into the place and returned without trouble," Cohn pointed out.
"Naturally, though I was terrified for him at the time.
The things couldn't be always on the loose. Besides, they have to be well fed to be kept under control and at the necessary concentration. They wouldn't feel the need to be out foraging in the daylight."
"It's a bit odd that none of the neighbors has noticed anything amiss if this has been going on for some time as you suggest, isn't it?"
Rael fixed her gaze on her tightly clasped hands. "A single incident wouldn't take long. The thud of the victim falling probably triggers the rodents. — It can't be the opening of the door itself since that happens all the time.
— There might be a muffled scream if the poor wretch was conscious, some thrashing, maybe, but little more than that. They'd work fast."
Her eyes glittered with a hard anger as cold as the depths of interstellar space. "However, I do agree that total longterm concealment would be impossible. Those running the swill joint across from it have to be involved and probably the staffs of the next one in from each of them as well. The third and fourth buildings on either side could be clean. They're erotic houses. There wouldn't be much activity out back from them, and the windows're either painted over or shuttered. As for passersby or patrons inside, with the general clamor, a bit more just wouldn't be noticed, or questioned if it were. It wouldn't be loud enough or last long enough to make that much of an impression."
"You've got all the answers, don't you?" The Colonel's face was a mask, her eyes hard, almost unblinking as they bore into the Free Trader.
"No, unfortunately. As I said before, I can't supply the motive, though I suppose it has to be greed. The involvement of several establishments rules out psychosis or vengeance unless they're all owned by one person. Even then, he couldn't do it without the knowledge and active assistance of a good number of others."
"Who are you proposing for the victims?"
Rael shook her head. "No one definite, not without knowing the why. They're probably more or less alone, people whose presence wouldn't really be noticed in a busy pleasure house and without friends, or powerful friends, to cause a stir about their disappearance, but the very opposite might be true, at least in one or two instances. — I just don't know!"
The emotion she had been holding in check had momentarily gotten away from her, but the woman gripped herself again in the next instant. "That's about it, Colonel. I've told you everything I can visualize that might be useful."
A knock caused her to glance back over her shoulder.
The Patrol-Sergeant took a note from the Yeoman manning the desk outside and brought it to his commander. She glanced at it, then called out permission to enter.
Two men strode into the already crowded room. Rael's spirit lightened at the sight of them. Miceal Jellico and Jan Van Rycke! She had no idea how they came to be here, but she felt a galaxy easier in her mind now that they were. A really good Trade Captain/Cargo-Master team was a force to be reckoned with on any level, even by the ranking officers of the rightly famed Stellar Patrol. Short as her term of service aboard the Solar Queen had been, it was long enough for her to recognize that these two were among the best in the starlanes. Their support would go a long way in bolstering her cause ... if they believed her story.
The Captain came to a stop before the Patrol commander's desk. "Jellico of the Solar Queen," he told her.
"This is Van Rycke, my Cargo-Master."
"Patrol-Colonel Ursula Conn."
Miceal gazed coolly at his junior staff. "What have these four shooting stars managed to stir up this time? Your agent informed us that you're holding them here but that they're not in trouble themselves."
"They're not unless they've dreamed up what they conceive to be an elaborate joke, which," she added hastily, forestalling an outburst of the anger she saw flash in Rael's tired eyes, "I don't believe is the case. They may, on the
other hand, be mistaken. — Doctor Cofort, please repeat what you've just told me. I have it all recorded., but I'd prefer to hear it live again myself."
The Medic complied. Although she felt drained and her nerves seemed stretched beyond the snapping point, she was encouraged by that request. It meant Cohn was giving serious consideration to her theory.
She did not take nearly so long this time. There were no interruptions, and her thoughts were fully organized and consolidated.
No one spoke for a few moments after she had finished, then the Patrol-Colonel pressed her hands on her desk as if trying to shove the whole matter away from her. "It doesn't sound any less wild on the second hearing."
Jellico walked over to the chair where Rael was sitting and lay his hands on her shoulders. Strength seemed to flow from him, bracing her so that her shoulders straightened a little. "Whether she's right or navigating clear off the charts," he declared flatly, "given their nature and the logic backing them. Doctor Cofort had no moral or legal option but to report her suspicions."
The older woman sighed. "No more than I have any option except to investigate her allegations.
" The spacer's suggestion was mad, vile, and an on-world police officer might have dismissed it outright as sheer insanity, but the Patrol had its file of atrocities; this would not even make the list of its stellar entries. Considering what misnamed humans had done to their fellows in the past—and not the terribly distant past—it had to be viewed as well within the realm of possibility.
"Then why are you holding us?" Ali demanded. He had picked that up from the Captain's introductory comments, and he recalled too clearly the treatment they had received while under suspicion of being part of a plague ship. It did not sound at all good to him.
"You four are staying out of sight until I've made some preliminary arrangements. I don't want any evidence destroyed before we can get our hands on it. If someone noticed my lads picking you up by that alley, I'd as soon let them imagine it had to do with a cargo or starship question, smuggling perhaps, and forget all about you.
Slight though the chance might be, I can't risk having a member of a conspiracy spot you on the loose, make some sort of connection, and start protecting his fins."
"Why bother calling the Captain if that's the case?"
"Because the Stellar Patrol doesn't make a practice of detaining innocent citizens incommunicado indefinitely!"
The surplanetary transceiver on her desk buzzed for her attention. The Colonel listened for a couple of minutes, then thanked the caller on the other end.
She carefully deactivated it again and turned to those crowding her office. "That was the lab," she reported somberly. "Your evidence seems to be the real thing, Doctor Cofort."
"Bone?"
She nodded. "Human, not long dead, and every part of it is scratched and scored, as if by the action of numerous small, very sharp teeth."
10
"Not to tell you your business. Colonel," Van Rycke said after an instant of grim silence, "but it might be advisable to pay that alley a visit real soon."
"This very night, Mr. Van Rycke. All of us." She nodded when his brows rose. "I'm deputizing you six. My command's limited in number, and I'll need the others elsewhere. — Keil, get us a leg of rambeef, a fine big one with a long length of exposed bone."
Thorson frowned. "Will it work, Colonel Cohn? They've killed recently, apparently. No matter how nameless their victims, they'd still give themselves away if they did it too frequently. If the rodents are caged . . ."
"We'll give it a try. I'm putting credits down that the fall of a relatively heavy object on or near that step is the signal that calls them. If they respond in sufficient number, we've got a good part of our case. If they don't, all we've lost is a nice piece of meat. We're raiding those swill joints anyway, and the erotic houses as well. If the port rats are there, we'll find them. If we're extremely lucky, we may pick up some documentation as well, but I'm not counting on that."
"You'll be able to get warrants so quickly?" Rael asked in surprise. "With so little evidence of any sort?"
"We don't need any. Such niceties don't apply to Happy City and its sister pleasure districts."
She saw the spacers' frowns and shrugged. "The Canuchean government doesn't approve of what goes on there.
The lawmakers were wise enough to realize that an attempt to bar such activities outright would only result in driving them underground and open the way for a lot more besides. By confining the questionable industries to fixed areas, they can keep control over what does occur.
"Those who work in a pleasure district can, and often do, reap large profits, but they all must sign waivers accepting unannounced and possibly frequent searches of their businesses and residences, which also must be located within the district.
"Actually, not many complain. Most stay only a few years, make their pile, and run, and the legitimate concerns do recognize that the policy helps keep some less scrupulous folk relatively honest. The sale of raklick, crax, and a half dozen other similar poisons, the abuse of minors, grossly rigged gaming, plus all the violence that goes with them would be rampant without strong, unremitting control, to the point that a large part of the current clientele would be frightened off. Needless to say, there's always some of that going on, but it's at least kept in check, especially with the stiff penalties handed out for engaging in any of it."
"None of that's really Patrol work," Van Rycke pointed out. The interstellar force was on Canuche of Halio, one of this part of the Sector's better-developed planets, as a check against smuggling and to provide assistance to any ships coming into difficulty in the nearby starianes. They should not have a great deal to do with basically surplane- tary affairs.
"No," she agreed, "apart from watching for attempts to import controlled substances. The local police normally take care of Happy City, though we're legally empowered to do so as well. We'll prowl around in a slack period to see that visiting space hounds don't get into or cause trouble, but that's about the usual extent of our on-world activities. We step in when we're asked, of course, or if we happen to spot something that looks amiss. Otherwise, we leave Canuchean business to the Canucheans."
Halio was well set by the time the flier left headquarters. Rael Cofort was in the backseat, jammed between Jellico and Thorson. Colonel Cohn and Yeoman Keil Roberts were in the front, the latter at the controls. Their comrades had left some minutes earlier under the Sergeant's command, also in a civilian-type machine, to approach from a different direction. Those who would move in on the swill joints and erotic houses themselves were either already in place or would be so shortly. The spacers had seen none of them.
The others were waiting for them, concealed by the deep shadows, when the flier reached its destination a few minutes later. Their vehicle had merely dropped them off a couple of blocks back and returned to headquarters.
Keil frowned. The alley behind all four of the suspect drinking establishments was in total darkness. "We have them on lighting violations anyway," he said in an almost soundless whisper to his commander.
Cohn nodded absently as she and her companions in the rear slipped from the flier. She could, see a little, thanks to the weak illumination provided by the erotic houses farther in. The fences were extended along the whole of the passageway, all save those that should divide the space of each of the suspect buildings from that of the others. So. Whatever was going on here, and she could not doubt that something fairly extraordinary was, the swill joints were indeed in partnership, or at least actively cooperating with one another.
Music filled the air, blaring from every establishment, drowning out the more readily confined babble of voices.
Nothing moved out here. It was too early yet for the first loads of refuse to be dragged outside for morning pickup and far too soon for drunks to be seeking air or to unload the contents of their abused stomachs. Certainly, she could see no small, moving, furry things . . .
"All right, Mr. Thorson," she whispered, handing him the twenty-two-pound rambeef leg she had been guarding.
"You look like you've got the strongest arm among our junior members, not to mention the greatest height by an inch or two. Hop up that fence and give this a good toss inside."
"No!"
She glanced sharply at the Cargo-Master. "Mr. Van Rycke?"
"Look at that fence!"
The Patrol officer's mouth hardened as she realized what he meant. "Thank you, Mr. Van Rycke," she said quietly.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Thorson. I don't know how much of a charge that thing carries, but if you had been injured or worse, the guilt would've been mine. — Whatever about Doctor Cofort's theory, these sons of Scythian apes are involved in some strange business, and it's neither clean nor small."
She glanced at their vehicle. "Keil, bring the flier over here. He can throw it from the hood."
"I could just fly over and drop it," the Yeoman suggested.
"No. We'd be begging to be seen. Keep outside the fence.
We're taking enough of a chance as it is. Nothing vanishes faster than solid evidence."
The machine's body might
be that of any civilian craft of the same general type, but its innards were all service standard. It started and moved with barely a whisper, hardly sufficient sound for them to catch although they were instinctively straining to detect the slightest noise. It would not give them away unless someone actually came or looked outside, and if that happened, they were betrayed anyway.
Jellico tensed as if for battle as Dane scrambled onto the rounded hood. The vehicle rose smoothly until it was level with the top of the wall, then hovered there. Thorson cautiously rose to his knees, his spacer's balance holding him in place as he prepared to make his cast.
Miceal glanced at the woman beside him. Rael Cofort was standing straight and perfectly still. She seemed utterly alone in this moment of testing, and as he had done in the Patrol-Colonel's office, he placed his hand on her shoulder, this time only one hand. The other grasped the hilt of his blaster.
He could feel the tension in her. In the next few seconds, her story might or might not be verified. That in itself was enough to draw the nerves taut, and if it did prove out, they could conceivably find themselves facing the same dire peril that had claimed the owner of that pitiful scrap of gnawed bone and an uncounted number of others before him. She had to be afraid, she who had the power to envision all this. The rest of them were.
No, he thought, he wronged the Medic in that, or wronged her in good part. He had learned something of her by that time. Rael was certain in her own mind of the accuracy of her deductions and had the imagination to appreciate very clearly the potential consequences of forcing this confrontation, but she was also thinking of the victims who had been taken in the trap they were trying to break and of those who would follow if she failed to prove her case tonight.
Dane made his throw. There was a sharp crack as the big bone protruding from the meat struck the pavement beside the step.
