Closed System

'Your detectors did not warn you of a prowler?'the security man asked.

'Well, I didn't have them on,' Pat lied. 'Beinghere on a civilized planet . . .'

The policeman's eyes did not smile with his lips. 'Well, sir, I think we'd better take a look around.

Taratwo is an orderly, peaceful planet, but therehas been some resentment growing over the UP's

high-handed actions.'

This was the first Pat had heard of that. NeitherX&A nor Control had indicated any anti-UP feel­ing on Taratwo.

'I'll join you,' Pat said, acting as if he automati­cally assumed that the security man meant to take a look aroundoutside the ship.

'Do you always wear your fire-control helmet?'the security man asked.

Pat looked him dead in the eyes. 'Only whenarmed vehicles start shooting men around my ship,'he said.

'I assume you have your laser beams aimed atmy vehicles.'

'Too close to the ship to use explosives,' Patsaid.

'You put it on the line, don't you, Captain?'

'When necessary,' Pat said.

'There will be no problem.'

The ashfall was finer, more pervasive in creep­ing into any opening in clothing. It sifted down hisneck, crawled up his sleeves. He led the securityman on a circuit ofSkimmer. The officer knew hisstuff; he ran his gloved hands into crevices, intothe tubes of the flux drivers. Pat examined theportside thrusters, and his heart leaped as his handcontacted something soft inside a tube. He squeezed,pushed, recognized the feel of the old man's small leather bag. He could not have explained why heremained silent about the bag.

Murphy's body was being casually loaded ontoone of the ground vehicles. A young security manwalked

up, steps puffing ash, saluted. 'There is noidentification on the body, sir.'

'Humm,' the officer said. He looked at Pat, hiseyes squinted in the glare of the white spotlights.'During your trading session this morning did any­one say anything unusual to you, sir? Perhaps askfor transportation off the planet?'

'No, no,' Pat said thoughtfully.

'Would you mind taking a look at the body,sir?'

'Any particular reason?'

'To see if you know the man.'

'I'll do that,' Pat said.

He followed the officer to the ground vehicle.The old man was heaped in a sad, slack pile on the floorboards. The officer used one gloved hand to flip Murphy onto his back and expose his face.

'I think he was one of the traders,' Pat said,bending over, thinking, hell, Murphy, oh, hell. 'Yes,I'msure of it. I even remember his name. He had the first number, bought a case of stress relievers.Name's Murphy. He had some very good emeraldsand rubies.'

'Why do you suppose he approached your shipin the dead of night?' the officer asked.

'I have no idea,' Pat said. 'I've never been herebefore. I know no one on this planet except Cap­tain John Hook, of customs, whom I met aboutthirty-six hours ago on landing. I saw this man in the customs shed during trading. I have his signa­ture on a bill of sale for his gemstones. That's thesum total of my knowledge.'

There was a moment of strained silence. Thenthe security officer made a slight bow. 'On behalfof my government, sir, I hope you will forgive thisbother.'

'No big deal,' Pat said. But in the back of hismind there was, surprisingly, a little prayer form­ing for the old man. 'But do you always shoot onsight?'

'When a man is in a restricted area, and he runsfrom the police, he is taking his chances.' Thesecurity man gave Pat a sloppy salute. 'Well, goodnight, sir. I understand you're leaving at dawn.'

'Right.'

'Have a pleasant trip. I hope that you won't letthis incident keep you from making a return tripto our planet soon.'

'The trading is good,' Pat said.

He closed the airlock, waited for decontamina­tion. A suspicion hit him. The hatch had been openall the time he was out there with the securityman. Had the whole incident been staged in orderto steal his cargo of gems? He ran to the cargoarea, opened one small case after the other. All thegems were there.

He sat in the command seat, a cup of coffeesteaming in his hand. Well, Pat, he told himself.Thinking time. The old man had wanted off theplanet very badly, badly enough to offer him halfof a fabulous diamond which might or might nothave existed. Now the old man was dead. May he rest in peace. And there was a small bag thrust upinto the tube of a portside flux thruster. Suddenlyhis hands shook. What if it was a bomb? What ifMurphy had fooled hell out of him, acting the part of the underdog to get his sympathy in order to get close enough to theSkimmer to blow her open andget back the gems?

He had a burning urge to go outside and checkthat damned bag. But the police had been able tospot Murphy in the midst of an ashfall. That meantthey had detection instruments which were notfoiled by the ash. If he went out now and got thebag and they were watching he'd have more toexplain than he wanted.

Twenty minutes before his passenger was due toarrive. He activated the computer, began his pre­takeoff countdown. He decided he wouldn't wait until dawn if, indeed, his passenger arrived at fivea.m.

TheSkimmer checked out beautifully. She eventold him that there was a foreign object in the number three port thruster. The computer, fresh after a nice rest, hummed and was brisk and effi­ cient when he programmed the blink which wouldtake him away from Taratwo into orbital position.He was ready. Five minutes to wait. He had aleather bag containing only God knew what in athruster. A man had been killed before his eyes.

The flux thruster would blow the bag out, disin­tegrating it, when he activated the engines. Unlessthe bag contained an explosive triggered to ignitewith the thruster.

The motion detector buzzed. A ground car. Theair outside was becoming more clear of ash. Hepicked up the vehicle at fifty yards, followed it to astop near the ramp, saw a small man in a baggywhite one-piece get out and walk unhurriedly to­ward the hatch. A quick, rather severe tremorcaused the man to stumble, andSkimmer's gyroscomplained as the ship rocked. No police. No glar­ing lights. No other motion detected. Pat opened the hatch, watched on the monitor as his passen­ger entered the hatch carrying one small, expensive-looking bag. The ground vehicle leaped into motionand disappeared while the hatch was closing. Patwaited until the decontaminator had cleared thelock of ash and any odd and assorted bugs indige­nous to Taratwo. Then he activated the radio and called, 'Ground Control, Skimmer. I'm booked for a six a.m. take off. Any problem if I leave a bit early?'

He had to wait, picturing the controller check­ing with a higher authority. 'No problem,Skim­ mer.'

'I'll be back with you for clearance as soon as Imake an outside visual,' Pat said.

That was how he was going to find out what oldMurphy had hidden in the thruster. Making awalkaround visual inspection of a ship before take­off had long since ceased to be standard practice.A pilot, after all, was an inferior instrument com­pared to the ship's sensors, but there were enoughtraditionalists left to make a visual inspectionmerely eccentric, not unusual. He nodded to thepassenger in the airlock, told the small man towait up front. The man still wore his breather,face hidden behind the mask and a floppy hat.

He left the number three portside thruster untillast, jerked the bag out, tucked it under his arm. Itwas heavy enough to contain a bomb. He pausedin the airlock, left the hatch open after setting the emergency-close mech. If the bag contained some­thing unpleasant he would toss it out the hatchand push the emergency-close button while it wasstill in the air and then pray thatSkimmer's hullplates were strong enough.

There was no possibility, however, of throwingthe bag out once he had opened it gingerly to finda solid object wrapped in a soiled piece of velvet.He had to use both hands to lift the object out ofthe bag.

It was ovate, almost egg-shaped. He hefted itand estimated it at plus three pounds in weight. Itwas, even in the rough, a thing of incredible beauty.

He was holding in his hands the single largest diamond in history, a diamond, if his weight esti­mate was anywhere near right, at least half a poundlarger than the Capella Glory. He had checked the size of the Capella Glory in the library during his wait, and he knew that it was over eight thousandcarats. The old man's stone would