Free Space Lawyer by Mike Jurist

the Flash drove on and on, far beyond the usual lanes,Kerry began to grow anxious. The hurtling, crisscrossing asteroids became fewer and fewer. Mars was a tiny point of light behind and Jupiter itself lost magnitude on the right. They were driving at an angle of sixty degrees to that giant planet. Space enfolded them, huge, unfathomable, frightening.
    Sparks sat patiently at the open visiscreen, waiting for messages that never came. The limited range of their apparatus forbade the reception of signals from the distant traveled courses; and not even a stutter came in from the fifty-million mile radius of effective reach. They had this sector of space, seemingly, all to themselves.
    For the hundredth time Kerry took out a well-thumbed sheaf of three spacegrams, reread them. He always read them inthe same order. It was something of a ritual.
    The first was the offer from Simeon Kenton to rehire him, with the tempting bait of eventual Chief of Legal Department hinted at. It was a most satisfying spacegram, even though he had turned down the offer. So Old Fireball, who hadn't even known of his existence while he had slaved loyally as an obscure member of the legal staff of Kenton Space Enterprises, now was sufficiently aware of his worth to make him a flattering proposal. And all because he had hornswoggled the old man with his tricky knowledge of the law.
    The second spacegram was also from old Simeon. This was the yelping insult to his own refusal. He grinned over it. He could read the wounded, incredulous vanity under the violent phrases. The man of power had called him impudent. Well, he had been impudent. Deliberately so. The memory of that year of unrewarded toil still rankled, and the cavalier treatment he had received when he asked for a raise. He'd never be subordinate again; to Kenton or to anyone else. They'd treat him as an equal or he'd go on his own. A lone wolf, pitting his wits and skill against the men of power and money. They had sought to use his wits and skill at law for their own benefit. They had thought to suck him dry and then cast him aside. Well, he'd show them. He'd—
    He paused over the third spacegram. Slowly he read it, though he knew every letter of it by heart. "Kerry Dale, Planets, Ceres," it read. "Congratulations. Keep up the good work!" And the signature was Sally Kenton!
    He remembered only too clearly the stupefaction with which he had received it. He had just mulcted her father out of a cool hundred thousand. The ordinary daughter would have been furious at the man who had done it.
    Yet she had sent him these extraordinary congratulations. Why? Hisheart gave a great bound—and subsided. He became angry with himself. He was a fool to believe she meant it; that she had a certain personal interest in him. How could she? There was something else behind it. Something devious; something to her father's interest. Well, if they thought they could overreach him, they were both mightily mistaken.
    Nevertheless he placed that particular spacegram very gently back in his pocket, taking care not to crease or dirty it in any way.
    He went down into the radio room. Jem was lounging there, looking glum and talking to Sparks. All radio men ran to a pattern. They were slight and wiry and dried-out and birdlike in the brightness of their eyes and the quickness of their movements. This particular Sparks was no exception.
    "How 're they coming?" asked Kerry.
     
    Sparks shook his head with rapid denial. "Nary a thing, Mr. Dale. Not even a code message from some lovesick matey to the gal he left behind in every port of call. Not a whisper. If I didn't check the tubes regular, I'd think the blamed machine was out o' kilter."
    "I say we oughta turn back," declared Jem vehemently.
    "This here salvage business ain't what it's cracked up to be." "Maybe not," agreed Kerry. "But I was thinking of other fish to fry."
    "What?" they chorused.
    Kerry hesitated. "Well, I had wanted to keep the idea to myself until something