LAST CALL FOR SECTOR 9G
By LEIGH BRACKETT
Out there in the green star system; far beyond
the confining grip of the Federation, moved the
feared Bitter Star, for a thousand frigid years the
dark and sinister manipulator of war-weary planets.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Summer 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Artie said monotonously, "There is someone at the door sir shall Ianswer? There is someone at the door sir shall I—"
Durham grunted. What he wanted to say was go away and let me alone.But he could only grunt, and Artie kept repeating the stupid question.Artie was a cheap off-brand make, and bought used, and he lacked somecogs. Any first class servall would have seen that the master hadpassed out in his chair and was in no condition to receive guests. ButArtie did not, and presently Durham got one eye open and then he beganto hear the persistent knocking, the annunciator being naturally out oforder. And he said quite clearly.
"If it's a creditor, I'm not in."
"—shall I answer?"
Durham made a series of noises. Artie took them for an affirmative andtrundled off. Durham put his face in his hands and struggled with thepangs of returning consciousness. He could hear a mutter of voices inthe hall. He thought suddenly that he recognized them, and he sprang,or rather stumbled up in alarm, hastily combing his hair with hisfingers and trying to pull the wrinkles out of his tunic. Through athick haze he saw the bottle on the table and he picked it up and hidit under a chair, ashamed not of its emptiness but of its label. Agentleman should not be drunk on stuff like that.
Paulsen and Burke came in.
Durham stood stiffly beside the table, hanging on. He looked at thetwo men. "Well," he said. "It's been quite a long time." He turned toArtie. "The gentlemen are leaving."
Burke stepped quickly behind the servall and pushed the main toggleto OFF. Artie stopped, with a sound ridiculously like a tired sigh.Paulsen went past him and locked the door. Then both of them turnedagain to face Durham.
Durham scowled. "What the devil do you think you're doing?"
Burke and Paulsen glanced at each other, as though resolve had carriedthem this far but had now run out, leaving them irresolute in the faceof some distasteful task. Both men wore black dominos, with the cowlsthrown back.
"Were you afraid you'd be recognized coming here?" Durham said. A smallpulse of fright began to beat in him, and this was idiotic. It made himangry. "What do you want?"
Paulsen said in a reluctant voice, not looking at him, "I don'twant anything, Durham, believe me." Durham had once been engaged toPaulsen's sister, a thing both of them preferred not to remember butcouldn't quite forget. He went on, "We were sent here."
Durham tried to think who might have sent them. Certainly not any ofthe girls; certainly not any one of the people he owed money to. Twomembers of the Terran World Embassy corps, even young and still obscuremembers in the lower echelons, were above either of those missions.
"Who sent you?"
Burke said, "Hawtree."
"No," said Durham. "Oh no, you got the name wrong. Hawtree wouldn'tsend for me if I was the last man in the galaxy. Hawtree, indeed."
"Hawtree," said Paulsen. He drew a deep breath and threw aside hisdomino. "Come on, Burke."
Burke took off his domino. They came on together.
Durham drew back. His shoulders dropped and his fists came up. "Lookout," he said. "What you going to do? Look out!"
"All right," said Burke, and they both jumped together and caught hisarms, not because Du