Look Out For Space (Seven For Space) Read Online Free PDF Page B

opposition," he said.
    The .38 dropped from my hand as my fingers opened convulsively under crushing pressure.
    "Next, the opponent's limbs are disabled."
    Sonny delivered two snapping spiderkicks and I hit the floor, my legs numb from the knees down."Now, an effective spinal blow to bring up the head."
    Whap! My head arched back in abrupt pain. He was going to kill me; the next spiderblow would snap my neck.
    I bit down hard on my tongue to supply the extra charge of adrenalin needed to offset his blow. My left wrist met the full impact of his chopping hand and he grunted in pain as bone met bone.
    "Now, you hairy bastard!" I rolled hard left, scooped up the fallen .38, and quick-triggered the weapon three times. Two of my nitroslugs missed Sonny — but the third didn't. It caught him in the chest and flopped him loosely back against the wall.
    "Sorry you made me do that, kid," I told him. "But I didn't like the way the lessons were going."
    A new respect gleamed in his dark eyes. "You are a savage and resourceful man, and you have accomplished what few Earthlings are capable of doing: You have actually managed to kill a spider master. I … applaud you, sir!"
    He didn't say anything else. He just quit breathing.
    Our session of harmonious physical activity had ended.
    * * *
     
    Unit K-7 proved to be as empty as Sonny's dead eyes. I tooth-combed every inch of the place, hoping to spot a lead on the contact I'd come to find, but the search was a total flakeout.
    I left the dead spider wrestler behind me in the unit — let the Antarite cops deal with him! — and took a dropslide to the street.
    The contact had been warned about me coming and had skipped, leaving Sonny behind to make sure I didn't follow. The big question of the moment was; Follow where ?
    I vidphoned Iberia. I still trusted him. He'd never have the gutnerve to hire a professional monkey to put out my lights.
    Reaching him was tricky. The roboconnector wanted my name.
    "Teddy Roosevelt," I said.
    Iberia got right on the line.
    "That's not funny, Mr. Space."
    "Sorry. I thought it was."
    "What do you want with me?" On the vidphone panel he scowled. "I gave you what you asked for."
    "You gave me a name and an address," I said. "But your contact pulled a skip on me. I need an alternate address."
    Iberia hesitated. "Impossible," he said. " I don't have one."
    "Yes, you do," I told him. "If you didn't, you wouldn't have hesitated before saying 'impossible'." Now, give!"
    More scowling from the fat Mr. I. "All right, I do have an alternate address — but you'd be taking a strong personal risk in going there."
    I snorted. "I almost got myself fogged checking out the first joint. I'll worry about the risks, Iberia. You just supply the info."
    "Very well. At least my conscience is clear." He consulted a file by the vidphone. "I happen to know that my contact often visits a private asteroid in the Lowenkopf sector. I was warned not to go there. It's not a functional point of contact."
    "Just give me the directional coordinates."
    "You must promise not to …"" … reveal my source of information," I finished for him. "Relax. I don't finger stoolies."
    He gave me the data and I rang off.
    Ole Sam was back in business.

Six
     
    "Joe Hopper?"
    "Right."
    "You for hire?"
    "Depends."
    "On what?"
    "On how far I have to haul."
    "How far is far?"
    "You tell me where you want to go. Then I tell you if I go that far."
    So I told him.
    "Yeah, I know the Luani system. It's within my jump range."
    "What's your price?"
    He named one.
    I named another.
    We hassled, adjusted, hassled more, agreed. There's a special technique in hiring a space cabbie. You never pay the first price a cabbie names. Only suckers do that. Cabbies love to bargain; it's a natural part of their lives. I know, because I was one myself, and when I told Joe Hopper this he beamed. Joe was a homeplanet boy from Earth.
    "So you're an ex-cabbie, eh?"
    "Right."
    "Where'd you run?"
    "Venus mostly," I said. "Drove