No World of Their Own by Poul Anderson

ever touch at Procyon?”
    For half an hour the conversation spanned stars and planets. Something of the weight within Langley lifted. The vision of many-faced strangeness spinning through an endless outer dark was one to catch at his heart.
    â€œBy the way,” said Brannoch, “I’ve been hearing some rumors about an alien you had along, who broke loose. What’s the truth on that?”
    â€œAh, yes,” murmured Valti in his tangled beard. “I too have been intrigued. Yes, a most interesting sort he seems to be. Why should he take such a desperate action?”
    Langley stiffened. What had Chanthavar said? Wasn’t the whole affair supposed to be confidential?
    Brannoch would have his spies, of course. And seemingly Valti did too. The American had a chilling sense of immense contending powers, a machine running wild. And he was caught in the whirling gears.
    â€œI’d rather like to add him to the collection,” said Brannoch idly. “That is, not to harm him, just to meet the creature. If he really is a true telepath, he’s almost unique.”
    â€œThe Society would also have an interest in this matter,” said Valti diffidently. “The planet may have something to trade worth even such a long trip.”
    After a moment, he added dreamily: “I think the payment for such information would be quite generous, Captain. The Society has its little quirks, and the desire to meet a new race is one. Yes, there would be money in it.”
    â€œCould be I’d venture a little fling myself,” said Brannoch. “Couple million solars—and my protection. These are troubled times, Captain. A powerful patron isn’t to be sniffed at.”
    â€œThe Society,” remarked Valti, “has extraterritorial rights. It can grant sanctuary, as well as removal from Earth, which is becoming an unsalubrious place. And, of course, monetary rewards: three million solars, as an investment in new knowledge?”
    â€œThis is hardly the place to talk business,” said Brannoch. “But as I said, I think you might like Thor. Or we could set you up anywhere else you chose. Three and a half million.”
    Valti groaned. “My lord, do you wish to impoverish me? I have a family to support.”
    â€œYeh. One on each planet,” chuckled Brannoch.
    Langley sat very still. He thought he knew why they all wanted Saris Hronna. But what could he do about it?
    Chanthavar’s short supple form emerged from the crowd. “Oh, there you are,” he said. He bowed casually to Brannoch and Valti. “Your servant, my lord and good sir.”
    â€œThanks, Channy,” said Brannoch. “Sit down, why don’t you?
    â€œNo. Another person would like to meet the captain. Excuse us.”
    When they were safely into the mob, Chanthavar drew Langley aside. “Were those men after you to deliver this alien up to them?” he asked. There was something ugly on his face.
    â€œYes,” said Langley wearily.
    â€œI thought so. The Solar government’s riddled with their agents. Well, don’t do it.”
    A tired, harried anger bristled in Langley. “Look here, son,” he said, straightening till Chanthavar’s eyes were well below his, “I don’t see as how I owe any faction today anything. Why don’t you quit treating me like a child?”
    â€œI’m not going to hold you incommunicado, though I could,” said Chanthavar mildly. “Isn’t worth the trouble, because we’ll probably have that beast before long. I’m just warning you, though, that if he should fall into any hands but mine, it’ll go hard with you.”
    â€œWhy not lock me up and be done with it?”
    â€œIt wouldn’t make you think, as I’ll want you to think in case my own search fails. And it’s too crude.” Chanthavar paused, then said with a curious intensity: “Do you know why I play out this game