"Nothing. Anyone in my position would have done it. This rabble – "
The rabble was still noisy. Occasionally they hurled offal at the stragglers joining the rear of the long line. But Pandit and Sria Krishna stood in the forefront, and presently the door opened. In a few minutes Pandit watched the girl disappear inside. He waited nervously, licking dry lips with a parched tongue. It was early morning, but already very hot. He needed the work. Any work. He needed the money which outworlders could pay so abundantly for honest work. He wondered if the fanatic gurus ever thought of that. Then the door in front of him opened again and a fat, unctuous-looking Ophiuchan came out. He seemed to be an official of sorts.
"One more!" he said. "Only one! The rest of you begone."
Behind Pandit there was a general press of bodies, but he was first in line and did not surrender his position. The unctuous-looking man admitted him, half-expecting a bribe. Pandit passed him by; he didn't have a single copper.
He approached a desk. The crowd noise outside was loud, those who had not joined the line crowing because most of those on it had been turned away. Behind the desk sat a small Denebian man of middle years. He looked nervous.
"Can you fly?" he asked in a voice almost desperately thin.
"Yes," Pandit said. Then the rumors were right.
"How much experience?"
"Five years on and off."
"You have a license?"
"There are no licenses on Ophiuchus IX," Pandit pointed out.
"Yes, of course. I'm sorry. Habit. You people don't lie."
"We try not to."
"Your name?"
Pandit told him. The Denebian wrote it down on a form and said: "You'll do. Pay is twenty credits a mission." It wasn't much, but it was more than Pandit had expected.
"What do we fly?" he asked. Questions didn't seem welcome, but no harm trying.
The Denebian looked at him and laughed. "You want the job?"
"Yes, I want the job."
"Then don't ask questions."
Pandit nodded.
"Out through that door, then. The other new pilots are assembling."
And Pandit left the small office.
A moment later a buzzer sounded on the Denebian's desk. He spoke into a grid: "Orkap here. Go ahead."
"The guru near the League building reports that a native Ophiuchan left the building heading for the city."
"When was this?"
"Yesterday morning."
"And?"
"Draw your own conclusions. Natives don't go near the League headquarters as a rule, do they?"
"No."
"And the League, of course, will want to know about the suicides?"
"Yes, but – "
"But nothing," said the radio voice, which belonged to the only other Denebian currently on Ophiuchus IX. "We can assume this native is a spy. For the League, Orkap."
"All right. I don't see any need to worry, though."
"Don't you? The gurus, like the other natives, can sham, but they can't lie. Sooner or later a guru will be brought out of trance by the League, questioned, and – "
"Tell them about us?" Orkap asked in a shocked voice.
"It could happen. Maybe it's happened already. There won't be any proof, of course, but the League would send a spy. Suppose I describe this native to you."
Orkap said, "Go ahead," and the radio voice did so.
In a shocked voice Orkap admitted: "I've given that Ophiuchan a pilot's job this morning. There can't be any doubt about it."
"Ah, then you see? You see?"
"I can fix that. I can – "
"Orkap, Orkap. You'll do nothing now. Let the spy alone for now. Then, in the Empty Places, you will merely announce to the pilots that there is a spy among them. Don't reveal who it is." He could not believe his ears.
"But – "
"They want work. They need work. They'll all be afraid the finger of guilt may point at them. They'll work like dogs for you, and I wouldn't be surprised if they uncovered the spy themselves."
"Yes," Orkap said. "Yes, I understand."
"All but one thing, Orkap. There is one thing you don't understand. The spy's identity – "
"You already told me who the spy was."
"Yes. But there is another spy. Working for us, in the League building."
"I never knew," said Orkap.
"The spy among your pilots is more than appearance indicates. Did you ever hear of Johnny Mayhem?"
Orkap's heart jumped into his throat. Who in the galaxy hadn't heard of Mayhem? "But," he gasped, "a – "
"Nevertheless. It is Mayhem."
Orkap was suddenly afraid, more afraid than he had ever been in his life. The ubiquitous Mayhem.
The fierce white sun of Ophiuchus IX broiled down on the Empty Places, a featureless desert two-thousand miles across and as lividly white as bleached bone. In all that burning emptiness, the jet cargo craft looked very small and very insignificant, like black midges on the dead white sand.
Midges among midges, the new pilots walked.
One said: "But I see no cargo."
Another: "These outworlders and their mystery…"
All were sweating, all uncomfortable, but all grateful for the twenty credits a flight they would earn, whatever the cargo turned out to be.
"What do you think?" Pandit asked Sria.
"I think I've never been so hot in my life. I feel like I'm being broiled alive."
"Here comes the Denebian now."
They had been driven into the Empty Places in a sand sled. The trip had taken two days but because the sled was air-conditioned no one had objected. When they saw the half dozen jets they knew why a sled had taken them into the wilderness. The jets were small cargo-carriers with room for pilot, co-pilot and perhaps a ton of cargo in each. Whatever it was the Denebians wanted exported, it didn't take up much room.
Orkap of Deneb walked toward them past the first of the jets. He began without preamble: "Your cargo is packed and ready to be moved in an underground vault five hundred yards from here. You will break up into pairs, a pilot and co-pilot for each jet." Sria Krishna and Pandit had already paired themselves together. "You work on your own time, getting the cargo with trundle-sleds, loading it, taking off, delivering it to the Denebian freighter at the spaceport. When you are finished, you collect your pay."
"Where do we sleep?" someone asked.
Orkap smiled. "You didn't come out here to sleep. There is only a limited amount of cargo. The jets are swift. You will be paid according to the amount of work you do. Any other questions?"
"What about food?" a plump young Ophiuchan asked.
"You will be given energy tablets, as many as you wish. Any other questions? No? Good. I have two additional things to say. First, you are not to examine your cargo under any circumstances, either here, or in transit, or on the spacefield. There are televid pick-up units in each jet, so you will be watched at all times. Second – " Orkap paused and let the silence grow and spread across the dazzling white expanse – "there is a spy among you, wearing the body of an Ophiuchan but in reality – well, I don't have to tell you who he is in reality." Orkap smiled grimly. "There is only one body-changer in the galaxy, but one is quite enough."
One of the pilots said, a little breathlessly: "Johnny Mayhem!"
Orkap smiled again. "I am aware of Mayhem's identity," he said, "but I'm not going to do anything about it."
The pilots waited. The sun glared down balefully. "You see," Orkap told them, "we cannot be altogether sure that the rest of you are here simply to earn your twenty credits a flight. Mayhem has unwittingly become our insurance. Find Mayhem! Find the spy among you! A hundred credits bonus to the man who does!"