Jungle in the Sky

The hunters wanted animals that lived on far Ganymede— though not as badly as the animals wanted the hunters.
The big man looked at home among his trophies.
The big man looked at home among his trophies. Somehow his scowl seemed as fierce as the head of the Venusian swamp-tiger mounted on the wall behind him, and there was something about his quick-darting eyes which reminded Steve of a Callistan fire-lizard. The big man might have been all of them wrapped into one, Steve thought wryly, and there were a lot of trophies.
He was the famous Brody Carmical, and rumor had it he was worth a million credits for each of the many richly mounted heads.
So you're fresh out of school with a degree in Extra-terrestrial zoology, Carmical grumbled. Am I supposed to turn cartwheels?
Steve cleared his throat. The Placement Service thought you might have a job—
I do, I do. That doesn't mean any young pup who comes along can fill it. Ever been off the Earth, Mr. Stedman?
No.
Ever been off the North American continent?
No.
But you want to go galavanting around the Solar System in search of big game. Tell me—do you think they have a Harvard club on every stinking satellite you'll visit? Do you think you can eat beefsteak and drink martinis in every frontier-world dive? Let me tell you, Mr. Stedman, the answer is no.
Try me, sir. That's all I ask—try me.