last month? Didn’t you pick up a T.C.I. man in Starport?”
The captain looked at him sidewise. “Yes, he’s aboard. Looks like you’re anxious.”
“Anxious!” Rogge grinned wickedly, humorlessly. “You’d be anxious yourself with two, three men strangled every day.”
Captain Julic narrowed his eyes. “It’s true, is it?” He looked up to the two tall cliffs that marked Diggings A and B, the raw clutter of barracks and machine-shops below. “We heard rumors in Starport, but I didn’t—” His voice dwindled away. Then: “Any idea at all who’s doing it?”
“Not one in the world. It’s a homicidal maniac, no doubt as to that, but every time I think I’ve got him spotted, there’s another killing. The whole camp’s demoralized. I can’t get an honest day’s work out of any man on the place. I’m a month behind schedule. I radioed the T.C.I. two weeks ago.”
Captain Julic nodded toward the port. “There he is.”
Rogge took a half-step forward, halted, blinked. The man descending the ladder was of medium height, medium weight, and something past middle-age. He had white hair, a small white beard, a fine straight nose.
Rogge darted a glance at Captain Julic who returned him a humorous shrug. Rogge turned back to the old man, now gazing leisurely up and down the glistening gray beach, out over the lambent white ocean.
Rogge pulled his head between his bony shoulders, stepped forward. “Ah—I’m James Rogge, Superintendent,” he rasped. The old man turned, and Rogge found himself looking into wide, blue eyes, clear and guileless.
“My name is Magnus Ridolph,” said the old man. “I understand that you’re having difficulty?”
“Yes,” said Rogge. He stood back, looking Magnus Ridolph up and down. “I was expecting a man from the Intelligence Corps.”
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “I happened to be passing through Starport and the Commander asked me to visit you. At the moment I’m not officially connected with the Corps, but I’ll do all I can to help you.”
Rogge clamped his teeth, glared out to sea. At last he turned back to Ridolph. “Here’s the situation. Men are being murdered, I don’t know by whom. The whole camp is demoralized. I’ve ordered the entire personnel to go everywhere in couples—and still they’re killed!”
Magnus Ridolph looked across the beach to the hills, low rounded masses covered with glistening vegetation in all shades of black, gray and white.
“Suppose you show me around the camp.”
Rogge hesitated. “Are you ready—right now? Sure you don’t want to rest first?”
“I’m ready.”
Rogge turned to the captain. “See you at dinner, Julic—unless you want to come around with us?”
Captain Julic hesitated. “Just a minute, till I tell the mate I’m ashore.” He clambered up the ladder.
Magnus Ridolph was gazing out at the slow-heaving, milk-white ocean that glowed as if illuminated from beneath.
“Plankton?”
Rogge nodded. “Intensely luminescent. At night the ocean shines like molten metal.”
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “This is a very beautiful planet. So Earthlike and yet so strangely different in its coloring.”
“That’s right,” said Rogge. “Whenever I look up on the hill I think of an extremely complicated steel engraving…the different tones of gray in the leaves.”
“What, if any, is the fauna of the planet?”
“So far we’ve found creatures that resemble panthers, quite a few four-armed apes, and any number of rodents,” Rogge said.
“No intelligent aborigines?”
Rogge shook his head. “So far as we know—no. And we’ve surveyed a good deal of the planet.”
“How many men in the camp?”
“Eleven hundred, thereabouts,” said Rogge. “Eight hundred at Diggings A, three hundred at B. It’s at B where the murders occur. I’m thinking of closing down the diggings for a while.”
Magnus Ridolph tugged at his beard. “Murders only at Diggings B? Have you shifted the personnel?”
Rogge
The captain looked at him sidewise. “Yes, he’s aboard. Looks like you’re anxious.”
“Anxious!” Rogge grinned wickedly, humorlessly. “You’d be anxious yourself with two, three men strangled every day.”
Captain Julic narrowed his eyes. “It’s true, is it?” He looked up to the two tall cliffs that marked Diggings A and B, the raw clutter of barracks and machine-shops below. “We heard rumors in Starport, but I didn’t—” His voice dwindled away. Then: “Any idea at all who’s doing it?”
“Not one in the world. It’s a homicidal maniac, no doubt as to that, but every time I think I’ve got him spotted, there’s another killing. The whole camp’s demoralized. I can’t get an honest day’s work out of any man on the place. I’m a month behind schedule. I radioed the T.C.I. two weeks ago.”
Captain Julic nodded toward the port. “There he is.”
Rogge took a half-step forward, halted, blinked. The man descending the ladder was of medium height, medium weight, and something past middle-age. He had white hair, a small white beard, a fine straight nose.
Rogge darted a glance at Captain Julic who returned him a humorous shrug. Rogge turned back to the old man, now gazing leisurely up and down the glistening gray beach, out over the lambent white ocean.
Rogge pulled his head between his bony shoulders, stepped forward. “Ah—I’m James Rogge, Superintendent,” he rasped. The old man turned, and Rogge found himself looking into wide, blue eyes, clear and guileless.
“My name is Magnus Ridolph,” said the old man. “I understand that you’re having difficulty?”
“Yes,” said Rogge. He stood back, looking Magnus Ridolph up and down. “I was expecting a man from the Intelligence Corps.”
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “I happened to be passing through Starport and the Commander asked me to visit you. At the moment I’m not officially connected with the Corps, but I’ll do all I can to help you.”
Rogge clamped his teeth, glared out to sea. At last he turned back to Ridolph. “Here’s the situation. Men are being murdered, I don’t know by whom. The whole camp is demoralized. I’ve ordered the entire personnel to go everywhere in couples—and still they’re killed!”
Magnus Ridolph looked across the beach to the hills, low rounded masses covered with glistening vegetation in all shades of black, gray and white.
“Suppose you show me around the camp.”
Rogge hesitated. “Are you ready—right now? Sure you don’t want to rest first?”
“I’m ready.”
Rogge turned to the captain. “See you at dinner, Julic—unless you want to come around with us?”
Captain Julic hesitated. “Just a minute, till I tell the mate I’m ashore.” He clambered up the ladder.
Magnus Ridolph was gazing out at the slow-heaving, milk-white ocean that glowed as if illuminated from beneath.
“Plankton?”
Rogge nodded. “Intensely luminescent. At night the ocean shines like molten metal.”
Magnus Ridolph nodded. “This is a very beautiful planet. So Earthlike and yet so strangely different in its coloring.”
“That’s right,” said Rogge. “Whenever I look up on the hill I think of an extremely complicated steel engraving…the different tones of gray in the leaves.”
“What, if any, is the fauna of the planet?”
“So far we’ve found creatures that resemble panthers, quite a few four-armed apes, and any number of rodents,” Rogge said.
“No intelligent aborigines?”
Rogge shook his head. “So far as we know—no. And we’ve surveyed a good deal of the planet.”
“How many men in the camp?”
“Eleven hundred, thereabouts,” said Rogge. “Eight hundred at Diggings A, three hundred at B. It’s at B where the murders occur. I’m thinking of closing down the diggings for a while.”
Magnus Ridolph tugged at his beard. “Murders only at Diggings B? Have you shifted the personnel?”
Rogge
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