Space For Hire (Seven For Space)

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Book: Read Space For Hire (Seven For Space) for Free Online
Authors: William F Nolan
Tags: Science-Fiction
used his pulsating lower lobes on me, and I couldn't walk for a month. A lobe job can put your knees wacky in quick order. I just hoped F. didn't have pulsating lower lobes.
    I didn't have any solid contacts in Domehive, which made things tougher. No feeders or stoolies I could call on. I was running a blind trace. Still, every city has its dank underbelly, its haven for space drifters and con artists, bimbos and hoods and freight riders — and Domehive was no exception.
    The aircabbie warned me about the area. "You don't wanna go down there, mister. It isn't safe, even by domelight. And after domedark you're liable to get scrugged by a freebie."
    "I can handle freebies," I told him. "And let me worry about getting scrugged."
    "Oke, fella, it's no skin off my tentacles if you don't come back." He drove on in silence.
    I grinned to myself. Even this tri-tentacle native of Saturn spoke the ancient cab lingo of Allnew York. Cabbies were the same anywhere in the System; they all gave you plenty of free advice whether you wanted it or not.
    "You can drop me here," I said.
    "Sure," he said, using his grav-brake. "That'll be ten halfcreds."
    I paid him and dropped out of the hovercraft. He gunned the cab back toward the heart of the city.
    My destination was a tall down-at-the-heels plasto-brick pyramid in narrow row of metal backwater units. I'd chosen a joint called Igor's, where the booze was crippling, the females were squeakers, and the price of your soul was up for grabs. What we Earth dicks call a Domehive dive.
    I was maybe five feet inside the door when a wide-lipped squeaker ankled over and rubbed her tentacle against my leg. "Care for some hookas?" she asked.
    "Not today, hon," I said. "Bush off!"
    She called me a dirty name in Saturnian and bushed off.
    I ordered a stiff drink and began asking about a gink who signed his name F.
    It took me half a domeday and fourteen dives to get the answer I was looking for. When I asked about F. this tender went purple. He was a native, and his natural color was puce. If you go purple on Saturn you're stirred up about something. I knew I was into pay dirt.
    "Better not ask about F."
    "Why not?"
    "If you want to go on living you'll stay clear of him. That's all I got to tell you."
    "Oh, no it isn't." I reached over the drink bar and grabbed him by his stalk-thin nearneck, applied pressure. "Talk," I said, "or I squeeze all the juice out of you."
    "Undigit me!" he choked.
    "Not till you talk." More pressure.
    "Aghh … Kay, kay!"
    I loosened a thumb.
    "Roundtower. Unit ABZ," he gasped. "I heard he goes there."
    I stood off and let him cool out. Then I moved in with more questions. "What's the F. stand for?"
    "Can't say. We domefolk just know him by that initial. He — he does business with some of our people. You know the kind of business I mean."
    "Yep." I said. "Farmed kills, private heists, nog jobs. Am I on your wave?"
    "You're on," the tender said.
    "What does F. have to do with Roundtower?"
    "I've heard it's one of his branch offices. A rumor, you understand. Nobody's ever checked it."
    "Well, somebody's going to now," I told him. I passed a ten credit across the drink bar. "You keep shut on this, eh?"
    "Shut," he said, nodding. His tentacles were purple at the tips, showing he was still spooked.
    "Just be careful is all," he said, stroking his nearneck with a pod."From what I hear F. don't appreciate snoops."
    "Never mind about what he appreciates," I said. "Just keep your skin buttoned about my being here."
    He gave me what passed for a grin on Saturn as I got out of there.

Seven
     
    Roundtower was a gleaming alumrib cylinder of cross-stacked office units rising from one of the more prosperous sections of Domehive. It was a nonbiz day; foot traffic was sparse and only half of the quick-ways were in active use.
    ABZ was near the top. I got a tubelift up, stepped off onto a long metalway and found the right unit with no trouble. On nonbiz days the units were closed to the

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