Delay in Transit Read Online Free

The agency was efficient.
     
     
"Remember," the counselor called out as he left, "identification is hard
to work with. Don't accept a crude forgery."
     
     
He didn't answer, but it was an idea worth considering. The agency was
also eminently practical.
     
     
The exit path guided him firmly to an inconspicuous and yet inescapable
contribution station. He began to doubt the philanthropic aspect of
the bureau.
     
     
     
     
"I've got it," said Dimanche as Cassal gloomily counted out the sum the
first counselor had named.
     
     
"Got what?" asked Cassal. He rolled the currency into a neat bundle,
attached his name, and dropped it into the chute.
     
     
"The woman, Murra Foray, the first counselor. She's a Huntner."
     
     
"What's a Huntner?" ,
     
     
"A sub-race of men on the other side of the Galaxy. She was vocalizing
about her home planet when I managed to locate her."
     
     
"Any other information?"
     
     
"None. Electronic guards were sliding into place as soon as I reached
her. I got out as fast as I could."
     
     
"I see." The significance of that, if any, escaped him. Nevertheless,
it sounded depressing.
     
     
"What I want to know is," said Dimanche, "why such precautions as
electronic guards? What does Travelers Aid have that's so secret?"
     
     
Cassal grunted and didn't answer. Dimanche could be annoyingly inquisitive
at times.
     
     
Cassal had entered one side of a block-square building. He came out on
the other side. The agency was larger than he had thought. The old man
was staring at a door as Cassal came out. He had apparently changed every
sign in the building. His work finished, the technician was removing
the visual projector from his head as Cassal came up to him. He turned
and peered.
     
     
"You stuck here, too?" he asked in the uneven voice of the aged.
     
     
"Stuck?" repeated Cassal. "I suppose you can call it that. I'm waiting
for my ship." He frowned. He was the one who wanted to ask questions. "Why
all the redecoration? I thought Travelers Aid was an old agency. Why did
you change so many signs? I could understand it if the agency were new."
     
     
The old man chuckled. "Reorganization. The previous first counselor
resigned suddenly, in the middle of the night, they say. The new one
didn't like the name of the agency, so she ordered it changed."
     
     
She would do iust that, thought Cassal. "What about this Murra Foray?"
     
     
The old man winked mysteriously. He opened his mouth and then seemed
overcome with senile fright. Hurriedly he shuffled away.
     
     
Cassal gazed after him, baffled. The old man was afraid for his job,
afraid of the first counselor. Why he should be, Cassal didn't know. He
shrugged and went on. The agency was now in motion in his behalf, but
he didn't intend to depend on that alone.
     
     
     
     
"The girl ahead of you is making unnecessary wriggling motions as she
walks," observed Dimanche. "Several men are looking on with approval. I
don't understand."
     
     
Cassal glanced up. They walked that way back in good old L.A. A pang of
homesickness swept through him.
     
     
"Shut up," he growled plaintively. "Attend to the business at hand."
     
     
"Business? Very well," said Dimanche. "Watch out for the transport tide."
     
     
Cassal swerved back from the edge of the water. Murra Foray had been
right. Godolphians didn't want or need his skills,. at least not on
terms that were acceptable to him. The natives didn't have to exert
themselves. They lived off the income provided by travelers, with which
the planet was abundantly supplied by ship after ship.
     
     
Still, that didn't alter his need for money. He walked the streets at
random while Dimanche probed. "Ah!"
     
     
"What is it?"
     
     
"That man. He crinkles something in his hands. Not enough, he is
subvocalizing."
     
     
"I know how he feels," commented Cassal.
     
     
"Now his throat tightens. He bunches his muscles. 'I know where I can
get more,' he tells himself. He is going