Equation of Doom, Page 2

eyes watering. He got off the bed andshook Ramsey's hand solemnly. Ramsey gave him three hundred andseventy-five credits and said: "Just see you make that go a long waysupporting Sally and the kids. I don't want to see you dropping any ofit at the gaming tables. I'll knock your block off if I see you there."

  "I'll knock my own block off if I see me there. Jase, I don't know howto thank--"

  "Don't is right. Forget it."

  "Do you have enough--"

  "Me? Plenty. Don't worry about old Jase." Ramsey went to the door."Well, see you."

  Englander walked quickly to him and shook his hand again. On the wayout, Ramsey played for a moment or two with the twins, who were rollinga couple of toy spaceships marked hyper-one and hyper-two across thefloor and making anachronistic machine-gun noises with their lips. SallyEnglander, a plump, young-home-maker type, beamed at Ramsey from thekitchen. Then he went out into the gathering dusk.

  * * * * *

  As usual on Irwadi, and particularly with the coming of night, it wasbitterly cold. Sucker, Ramsey told himself. But he grinned. He felt goodabout what he'd done. With Stu sick, and with Sally and the kids, he'ddone the only thing he could do. He still had almost twenty-five creditsleft. Maybe he really would have a lucky night at the tables. Maybe ...heck, he'd been down-and-out before. A fugitive from Earth didn't havemuch choice sometimes....

  "Red sixteen," the croupier said indifferently. He was a short,heavy-set Sirian with a shock of scarlet hair, albino skin, and redeyes.

  Ramsey watched his money being raked across the table. It wasn't hisnight, he told himself with a grim smile. He had only three creditsleft. If he risked them now, there wouldn't even be the temporaryphysical relief and release of a bottle of Irwadian brandy beforehitting the sack.

  Which was another thing, Ramsey thought. Hitting the sack. Ah yes, youfilthy outworlder capitalist, hitting the sack. You owe that fish-eyed,scale-skinned Irwadian landlady the rent money, so you'd better waituntil later, until much later, before sneaking back to your room.

  * * * * *

  He watched the gambling for another hour or so without risking his fewremaining credits. After a while a well-dressed Irwadian, drunk andobviously slumming here in the Old Quarter, made his way over to thetable. His body scales were a glossy dark green and he wore glittering,be-jeweled straps across his chest and an equally glittering, be-jeweledweapons belt. Aside from these, in the approved Irwadian fashion, he wasquite naked. An anthropologist friend had once told Ramsey that once theIrwadians had worn clothing, but since the coming in great number of theoutworlders they had stripped down, as though to prove how tough theywere in being able to withstand the freezing climate of their nativeworld. Actually, the Irwadian body-scales were superb insulation,whether from heat or from cold.

  "... Earthman watching me," the Irwadian in the be-jeweled straps saidarrogantly, placing a fat roll of credits on the table.

  "I'm sorry," Ramsey said. "Were you talking to me?"

  "I thertainly wath," lisped the Irwadian, his eyes blazing with drunkenhatred. "I thaid I won't have any Earthman thnooping over my thoulderwhile I gamble, not unleth he'th gambling too."

  "Better tell that to your Security Police," Ramsey said coldly but notangrily. "I'm out of a job, so I don't have money to throw around. Goahead and tell me--" with a little smile--"you think it was my idea."

  The Irwadian looked up haughtily. Evidently he was looking for trouble,or could not hold his liquor, or both. The frenzy of planetarization,Ramsey knew from bitter experience on other worlds, made irrationalbehavior like this typical. He studied the drunken Irwadian carefully.In all the time he'd spent on Irwadi, he'd never been able to tell anative's age by his green, scale-skinned, fish-eyed poker-face. But theglossy green scales covering face and body told Ramsey, along with thesturdy muscles revealed by the lack of clothing, that the Irwadian wasin his prime, shorter than Ramsey by far, but wider across the shouldersand thicker through the barrel chest.

  "You outworlderth have been deprething the thandard of living on Irwadiever thince you came here," the Irwadian said. "All you ever broughtwath poverty and your ditheath germth and more trouble than you couldhandle. I don't want your thtink near me. I'm trying to enjoy mythelf.Get out of here."

  * * * * *

  It was abruptly silent in the little gambling hall. Since theestablishment catered to outworlders and was full of them, the silence,Ramsey thought, should have been both ominous and in his favor. Helooked around. Outworlders, yes. But not another Earthman present. Hewondered if he was in for a fight. He shrugged, hardly caring. Maybe afight was just what he needed, the way he felt.

  "Get out of here," the Irwadian repeated. "You thtink."

  Just then a Vegan girl, blue-skinned and fantastically wasp-waisted likeall her kind, drifted over to Ramsey. He'd seen her around. He thoughthe recognized her. Maybe he'd even danced with her in the unit-a-dancehalls reserved for humanoid outworlders.

  "Are you nuts?" she said, hissing the words through her teeth andgrabbing Ramsey's elbow. "Don't you know who that guy is?"

  "No. Who?"

  "He's Garr Symm, that's who."

  Ramsey smiled at her without mirth. "Do I bow down in awe or run fromhere screaming? I never heard of Garr Symm."

  "Oh you fool!" she whispered furiously. "Garr Symm is the brand newnumber one man of the Irwadi Security Police. Don't you read the'casts?"

  Before Ramsey could answer or adjust to his surprise, the Irwadianrepeated:

  "I'm telling you for the third time. Get out."

  Ostentatiously, Ramsey reached into his cloak-pocket for a single creditbill and tossed it on the table.

  "The denomination is not sufficient, sir," the albino Sirian croupiersaid indifferently. Ramsey had known it was not.

  Garr Symm's face turned a darker green. The Vegan girl retreated fromRamsey's side in fright. Symm raised his hand and an Irwadian waiterbrought over a drink in a purple stem glass with a filigree pattern oftitanium, bowing obsequiously. Symm lurched with the glass towardRamsey. "I'm telling you to go," he said in a loud voice.

  Ramsey picked up his credit note but stood there. With a little sigh ofdrunken contentment, Garr Symm sloshed the contents of his stem glass inRamsey's face.

  The liquor stung Ramsey's eyes. Many of the other outworlders, neitherIrwadian nor Earthmen, laughed nervously.

  Ramsey wiped his eyes but otherwise did not move. He was in a rough spotand he knew it. The fact that their new Security Chief went out drunk atnight with a chip on his shoulder was the Irwadian government's affair,not Ramsey's. He'd been insulted before. An Earthman in the outworlds,particularly an Earthman fugitive who knew he dared not get into thekind of trouble that could bring the Earth consul to investigate, wasused to insults. For Earth was the leading economic and military powerof the galaxy, and the fact that Earth really tried to deal fairly withits galactic neighbors meant nothing. Earth, being top dog, wasresented.

  The thing which got Ramsey, though, was this Garr Symm. He had neverheard of Garr Symm, and he thought he knew most of the big shots in theIrwadian Security Police by name. But there must have been a reason forhis appointment. A government throwing off outworld influence had areason for everything. So, why Garr Symm?

  * * * * *

  "You, Mith Vegan!" Garr Symm called suddenly. "You whithpered to theEarthman. What did you tell him?"

  "Not to look for trouble," the Vegan girl said in a frightened voice.

  "But what elth?"

  "Honest, that's all."

  "Come here, pleath."

  Her blue skin all at once very pale, the Vegan girl walked back towardGarr Symm. He leered at her quite drunkenly and took hold of her slenderarm. "What did you tell him? For the latht time."

  The girl whimpered: "You are hurting my arm."

  Thoughts raced through Ramsey's mind. As an administrator, as anIrwadian public servant in a
touchy job, Garr Symm, a drunkard, wasobviously grossly incompetent. What other qualifications did he havewhich gave him the top Irwadian Security job? Ramsey didn't know. Hesighed. The Vegan girl's mouth formed a rictus of pain. Ramsey had ahunch he was going to find out.

  He said curtly: "Let go of her, Symm. She told me nothing that wouldinterest you."

  * * * * *

  Garr Symm ignored him. The blue-skinned girl cried.

  Ramsey grimaced and hit Garr Symm in the belly as hard as he could.

  Symm thudded back against the table. It overturned with a crash and theSecurity