The Terror Out of Space

by Dwight V. Swain

"To hell with her, too! Even if I believed you, my job's in Mekronal, not Rescue Service!"

He broke off sharply, as if unable to find words harsh enough to vent his fury. His hand blurred as he flicked the switch.

The screen went dead.

Belly quivering, Boone turned off his own unit and slumped back on the bed.

But before he could even sort out his own feelings, the com-box signal blinked again.

For the fraction of a second Boone hesitated, nonplussed and frowning, then threw the switch.

This time the face on the screen was one he hadn't seen before: a stern-faced man with greying hair, all dignity.

The other said, "I'm Douglas Schilling, specialist in space law at Thelema. A mutual friend heard about your current difficulties. He suggested that you might like to have me serve as counsel."

Boone stared. "A mutual friend—"

"Yes," Schilling nodded. "He prefers that I not use his name over the space-phone, but he said you'd remember him as the man to whom you were talking in Gandor City just before you left for Titan."