Entities: The Selected Novels of Eric Frank Russell Read Online Free PDF

area in which a lone Terran could wander on the loose.
    Reaching the downtown section, Mowry tramped around until twilight, weighed up the location and external appearance of several small hotels. Finally he picked one in a sidestreet off the main stem. Quiet and modest-looking, it would serve for a short time while he sought a better hideout. But having reached a decision he did not go straight in.
    First it was necessary to make an up-to-the-minute check of his papers lest anything wrong with them should put a noose around his neck. The documents with which he had been provided were microscopically accurate replicas of those valid within the Sirian Empire nine or ten months ago. They might have changed the format in the interim. To present for examination papers obviously long out of date was to ask to be nabbed on the spot.
    He’d be trapped in a hotel, behind doors, with Sirians all around. Better the open street where if it came to the worst he could throw away his case along with his bandy-legged gait and run like the devil in pursuit of a virgin. So he ambled casually past the hotel, explored nearby streets until he found a policeman. Glancing swiftly around, he marked his getaway route and went up to the officer.
    “Pardon, I am a newcomer.” He said it stupidly, wearing an expression of slight dopiness. “I arrived from Diracta a few days ago.”
    “You are lost, hi?”
    “No, officer, I am embarrassed.” He fumbled in a pocket, produced his identity-card, offered it for inspection. His leg muscles were tensed in readiness for swift and effective flight as he went on, “A Pertanian friend tells me that my card is wrong because it must now bear a picture of my nude body. This friend is a persistent prankster. I do not know whether he is to be believed.”
    Frowning, the policeman examined the card’s face. He turned it over, studied its back. Then he returned it to Mowry.
    “This card is quite in order. Your friend is a liar. There is no such silly regulation. He would be wise to keep his mouth shut.” The frown grew deeper. “If he does not he will someday regret it. The Kaitempi are rough with those who spread false rumors.”
    “Yes, officer,” said Mowry, vastly relieved but looking suitably frightened. “I shall warn him not to be a fool. May you live long!”
    “Live long!” said the policeman, curtly.
    Hurrah! He went back to the hotel, walked in as though he owned it, said to the clerk, “I wish a room with bath for ten days.”
    “Your instrument of identity?”
    He passed the card across.
    The clerk wrote down its details, handed it back, reversed the register on the counter and pointed to a line. “Sign here.”
    On taking the room his first act was to have a welcome wash. Then he reviewed his position. He had reserved the room for ten days but that was mere camouflage since he had no intention of staying that long in a place so well surveyed by official eyes. If Sirian habits held good for Jaimec he could depend upon some snoop examining the hotel register and, perhaps, asking awkward questions before the week was through. He had all the answers ready—but the correct wasp-tactic is not to be asked so long as it can be avoided.
    He’d arrived too late in the day to seek and find better sanctuary. Tomorrow would be well-spent hunting and finding a rooming-house, preferably in a district where inhabitants tended to mind their own business. Meanwhile he could put in two or three hours before bedtime by exploring Pertane, studying the lie of the land and estimating future possibilities.
    Before starting out he treated himself to a hearty meal. To a native-born Terran the food would have seemed strange and somewhat obnoxious. But he ate it with gusto, its flavors serving only to remind him of his childhood. It wasn’t until he had finished that it occurred to him to wonder whether some other less well-equipped wasp had ever betrayed himself by being sick at a Sirian table.
    For the rest of