Free Delay in Transit by F. L. Wallace

DELAY IN TRANSIT

by F. L. Wallace
Galaxy , Sept. 1952
     
     
Muscles tense," said Dimanche. Neural index 1.76, unusually high.
Adrenalin squirting through his system. In effect, he's stalking you.
Intent: probably assault with a deadly weapon."
     
     
"Not interested," said Cassal firmly, his subvocalization inaudible
to anyone but Dimanche. "I'm not the victim type. He was standing on
the walkway near the brink of the thoroughfare. I'm going back to the
habitat hotel and sit tight."
     
     
"First you have to get there," Dimanche pointed out. "I mean, is it safe
for a stranger to walk through the city?"
     
     
"Now that you mention it, no," answered Cassal. He looked around
apprehensively. "Where is he?"
     
     
"Behind you. At the moment he's pretending interest in a merchandise
display."
     
     
A native stamped by, eyes brown and incurious. Apparently he was
accustomed to the sight of an Earthman standing alone, Adam's apple
bobbing up and down silently. It was a Godolphian axiom that all travelers
were crazy.
     
     
Cassal looked up. Not an air taxi in sight; Godolph shut down at dusk. It
would be pure luck if he found a taxi before morning. Of course he *could*
walk back to the hotel, but was that such a good idea?
     
     
A Godolphian city was peculiar. And, though not intended, it was
peculiarly suited to certain kinds of violence. A human pedestrian was
at a definite disadvantage.
     
     
"Correction," said Dimanche. "Not simple assault. He has murder in mind."
     
     
"It still doesn't appeal to me," said Cassal. Striving to look
unconcerned, he strolled toward the building side of the walkway and
stared into the interior of a small cafe. Warm, bright and dry. Inside,
he might find safety for a time.
     
     
Damn the man who was following him! It would be easy enough to elude
him in a normal city. On Godolph, nothing was normal. In an hour the
streets would be brightly lighted -- for native eyes. A human would
consider it dim.
     
     
"Why did he choose me?" asked Cassal plaintively. "There must be something
he hopes to gain."
     
     
"I'm working on it," said Dimanche. "But remember, I have limitations. At
short distances I can scan nervous systems, collect and interpret
physiological data. I can't read minds. The best I can do is report what
a person says or subvocalizes. If you're really interested in finding
out why he wants to kill you, I suggest you turn the problem over to
the godawful police."
     
     
"Godolph, not godawful," corrected Cassal absently.
     
     
That was advice he couldn't follow, good as it seemed. He could give the
police no evidence save through Dimanche. There were various reasons,
many of them involving the law, for leaving the device called Dimanche
out of it. The police would act if they found a body. His own, say,
floating face-down on some quiet street. That didn't seem the proper
approach, either.
     
     
"Weapons?"
     
     
"The first thing I searched him for. Nothing very dangerous. A long knife,
a hard striking object. Both concealed on his person."
     
     
Cassal strangled slightly. Dimanche needed a good stiff course in
semantics. A knife was still the most silent of weapons. A man could
die from it. His hand strayed toward his pocket. He had a measure of
protection himself.
     
     
"Report," said Dimanche. "Not necessarily final. Based, perhaps, on
tenuous evidence."
     
     
"Let's have it anyway."
     
     
"His motivation is connected somehow with your being marooned here. For
some reason you can't get off this planet."
     
     
That was startling information, though not strictly true. A thousand
star systems were waiting for him, and a ship to take him to each one.
     
     
Of course, the one ship he wanted hadn't come in. Godolph was a transfer
point for stars nearer the center of the Galaxy. When he had left Earth,
he had known he would have to wait a few days here. He hadn't expected
a delay of nearly three weeks. Still, it wasn't unusual. Interstellar
schedules over great