She didn't seem to like it.
Terl put the knife in his belt, went out, reconnected the juice, and stuffed the remote in his breast pocket. The younger one was saying something in man-language, something undoubtedly harsh. Treacherous creatures, these animals. Well, all that would be handled soon. After the gas drone had done its work he'd be through with this pair. And good riddance.
He rumbled on down to the morgue, and sure enough the medicals had just dumped the bodies and not even on a bench! He turned on the lights, closed the door, and hoisted a thousand pounds of Numph onto a shelf. Even in death the old bungler looked stupid, an expression of amazement still on his face. Not all the blood had dried yet and Terl got it on his hands. He wiped them off on Numph's coat.
Jayed's body was surprisingly light, not more than seven hundred pounds. Terl plunked it down on a table and cuffed it.
“Blast you,” said Terl to the corpse. "lf you hadn't shown up my future would have been a beautiful dream.” He cuffed the face again.
Mange. The creature had mange. Terl looked at the corpse sourly. Then he reached over and, with clenched fangs, gripped its throat and choked it. He threw the head back and it hit the table with a thud. Terl cuffed it again.
He took hold of himself. He had to be calm, cool, competent. Where was the badge? He patted the jacket and couldn't feel any lump.
Maybe Jayed had carried the badge in his boots. Hollow soles were an I.B.I. specialty. He pulled the boots off and examined them. No hollow soles.
Blast it, the fellow carried his badge somewhere! Terl patted the ragged trousers. Nothing. He stood back from the corpse. What a pitiful spectacle this Jayed was! The clothes were full of holes. The fur was diseased.
Where was it! He had been reaching for something! Terl ripped the bloodied shirt and jacket with a jerk that bared the chest. He examined the rags that had torn off in his paws. Nothing in them. Then he noticed the chest. He stared.
The three horizontal bands! The brand of a criminal.
The rags fell from Terl's talons. He bent closer, staring at the chest.
No mistake.
The criminal brand.
He bent closer and scraped at it. No, it was actually burned in!
He gave it an expert appraisal. It was about a year old.
Hastily he turned and seized the right ankle of the corpse. Yes! The shackle scars, complete with the barb marks, of the imperial prison. A closer look. Also about a year old.
Terl backed up to the wall and stared at the corpse.
It was not an unfamiliar story. An official or an agent had committed a crime in the performance of duty or had been stupid enough to tamper with a crime committed by the aristocracy, had been drummed out of his position and thrown into the imperial prisons.
Suddenly Terl knew exactly what Jayed had done. He had used his talents to escape. He had forged papers as "Snit" and he had worked his way through the personnel lineup of Intergalactic Mining and gotten himself shipped to the farthest outpost of the company. Jayed had been on the run!
It hit Terl like a thunderbolt. Jayed had not been investigating anything here! Jayed was in hiding. His gesture to his chest was to show Terl the brand and put himself at Terl's mercy. And it would have worked! Terl could have used him in devious ways.
All these months of worry! All about nothing.
Terl looked at the pitiful, mangy creature on the table. It was a good thing the door was closed because for quite a while Terl couldn't stop laughing.
Chapter 3
Once more that day, Terl was sitting at his desk. He was relaxed, at ease. There was a saucepan of kerbango there and he wasn't even chewing on it.
His pen moved easily on the report. This changed the whole thing. It was very simple.
Despite warning Numph to be watchful– copy of warning enclosed-due to the number of criminals in the work force, a criminal whose papers said his name was "Snit" had gotten into the offices with probable intent to rob and walked in on Numph, who had shot him. Before he died the criminal had shot Numph. Witnessed statements to hand and enclosed. The personnel department in the home office could possibly institute physical examinations as this was the second branded criminal received in recent drafts of personnel. It was, of course, necessary for the company to make a profit and understandable that this was a very out-of-the-way planet, but it had only one security officer. But the matter was actually of no great importance, and one would not venture to criticize the practices of the home office since they knew what they were doing. Situation well in hand. A recently appointed deputy had competently assumed the duties of Planet Head. The crime was simple and routine. Bodies en route at next semiannual firing.
That was that. An expansive Terl finished packaging the evidence and picto-recorder discs. Nobody would be interested anyway. He called Chirk and, with a playful paw on her rump, gave her the package to log and include in the dispatch box. She left and he glanced at the clock. He was overdue at the receiving machine. He went over to it and punched the coordinates of the pictures he wanted and they came whirring forth. He glanced at them casually: the drone firing schedule had to be confirmed. Yes, they were up there at the minesite, working with the cage....
Suddenly he sat forward and spread the pictures out.
They had a blade scraper operating down at the bottom of the cliff, turning over the rubble! Yes! A crane was raising an ore net...what was that in the basket?
He punched rapid keys on the machine and got a closer-view picture. He looked at it. He looked at the analysis squiggle at the side: he didn't have to analyze that; he knew it! It was gold.
They were recovering the lode out of the slide!
He stood up and examined the pictures more closely. What was this over at the side of the slide? Ah, the mangled remains of dead bodies. They'd lost a crew in the drift and with stupid sentimentality they were also digging them out. Why bother? They didn't have to ship them to home planet. Who cared about the corpses of animals? But wait, that meant they must have been up to the lode from behind.
And what were they doing with the cage? Still mining? Ah, pockets. They must have spotted another pocket on that vein up inside the mountain. The mining man in Terl told him that was a good possibility.
He looked at the gold in that ore net. Several hundred pounds of it? He crashed down in his chair and smiled. He began to chuckle.
That drone. He didn't have to fire it. It could wait till Day 93. Then for sure, but not now. No, by the crap nebula, not now!
How wonderful he felt. It had been ages since his head hadn't ached. He reached out a paw. The talons were steady as bedrock.
Chapter 4
Terl bounced up, pulsing with good cheer and energy. He grabbed some equipment and packages.
He still had a schedule, but it was different.
He sailed through the compound and into the office of the Planet Head.
Attendants had finished mopping up blood, but there were some stains left. The atmosphere was a bit sharp with cleaning fluids.
There sat Ker. The midget Psychlo looked a bit funny and depressed, lost in the immensity of the chair back of the vast square yardage of the desk.
“Good afternoon, Your Planetship," caroled Terl.
“Would you close the door, please?” said Ker faintly.
Terl took a probe out from under his arm and waved it about to make sure the place hadn't been bugged overnight. He was almost careless about it. He felt free!
"I’m not very popular,” said Ker. “People haven't been very polite to me so far. They wonder why Numph appointed me his deputy. I wonder myself. I’m an operations officer, not an administrator. And now all of a sudden I’m head of the planet.”