[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Thrilling Wonder Stories, August 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
All sorts of things come in on a space freighter. Even in the old daysgrocers were always finding twenty-foot pythons curled cozily insidebunches of bananas from South America; and what sort of undesiredstowaways do you suppose you get when you have a cargo of tongarusfrom south Venus, agatized Fyella corymbs from the district aroundAphrodition, hand-painted lumigraphs on goor fiber made in Marsportprefecture, and golden rhnx jewelry from the canal centers?
George Saunders, supercargo of the S.S. Trito, gave his wife a warmkiss on the cheek.
"For Pete's sake," he hissed into her ear, "act like you're glad to seeme, can't you? The Old Man's watching us."
Marta Saunders hesitated a moment and then threw her plump body intoher husband's arms.
"Oooh, Georgie!" she squealed. "You sweet old thing! It's so wonderfulto see you again!"
"That's enough," George rumbled warningly. He was swaying a little fromthe impact. "Don't want to overdo it. Let's get out of here."
They started over to the parking area of the spaceport, where their'copter was.
"What's the matter?" Marta demanded as soon as they were out of earshotof the ship. "What do you care what the captain thinks about us?"
"Listen, Marta, the old fool's been riding me ever since we leftAphrodition. Says I'm the most incompetent supercargo he's ever had.Just before we docked today, he said he thought he'd take it up withthe union. If he does, you know what'll happen. Pynx said the last timethat if he got one more complaint about me he'd take the case to theexecutive board. I'd lose my license, sure."
"Oh." Marta seemed unwillingly impressed. She got an atomizer out ofher handcase and began spraying quick-drying cosmi-lac over the skin ofher face and neck. "But what happened?" she asked an instant later whenthe cosmetic had set. "Why's he so down on you?"
For a moment the fine-etched lines of irritation and petulance fadedfrom George Saunders' face, to be replaced by an expression of honestperplexity.
"Marta, I—wait, here's the 'copter. I'll tell you about it after weget in. And for the love of heaven, don't drop any pop bottles out ofthe window the way you did the last time I was in port. Having theair police after us would be the last straw, as far as my nerves areconcerned."
He slid into the driver's seat. Marta got two bottles of pop out of therefrigerator, shoved straws into their necks, pulled a shelf out of thepaneling to hold one bottle at a convenient level under George's nose,and began drinking out of the other herself.
"Well?" she asked after a couple of swallows.
George drank from his bottle before replying.
"It's the darnedest thing. I remember beginning to load number twoand three holds at Aphrodition, and I remember telling the longshoreleaderman to have the hatch covers put on again when the holds werefilled, but there're six or eight hours in there during the loading Idon't remember a single thing about. They're totally gone.
"Well, the way the ship handled at the take-off from Aphrodition, theOld Man thought there must be something wrong, and when we were out inspace he went in for a look. Wow! I can see, sort of, why he's sore.Those holds look like somebody'd stirred the things in 'em up witha big stick. About a third of the cargo's ruined. The tongarus haveleaked all over those blasted lumigraphs, and—Well, the insurancecompany is going to raise blue murder, and the owners wo