Working on the theory that you can skin a suckerin space as well as on Earth, the con team of Hardingand Sheckly operated furtively but profitablyamong natives of the outer planets. That is—untilthere was a question of turnabout being fair playin a world where natives took their skinning literally!
Illustrated by Kelly Freas
"People are basically alike,"Harding said democratically. Hesat idly against the strawlike mattingof the hut wall and reachedfor a native fruit in a nearby bowl."They're all suckers, even thesmartest of them; in fact, the oneswho think they're the smartestgenerally wind up to be the dumbest."Carefully, he bit into the fruitwhich resembled an orange and,mouth full, nodded approvingly."Say, these aren't bad. Try one."
Sheckly shook his head, determinedto avoid as many aspects ofthis culture as he could. "But thesearen't people," he reminded, nothappy with the thought. "They'relizards."
Harding shrugged and settledback, his grinning features ruddy inthe flaring torchlight. "Humanoidshave no monopoly on suckerhood.When it comes to that, we're allbrothers under the skin, no matterwhat color or how hard the skinmay be." He sighed, contemplatingthe harvest-to-be. "No, Sheckly, it'llbe like taking candy from ababy. We'll be out of here withour pockets bulging before theSpace Patrol can bat an eyelash inthis direction."
Unconvinced, Sheckly staredglumly through the open doorwayof the hut into the warm humidnight, where a fire flared in thedarkness and long shadows dancedand slithered around it.
"It's not the Space Patrol I'mworried about," he said, aftera while. "I don't mind fleecinghumanoids—" he shivered, grimacing—"butlizards!"
Harding laughed. "Their richesare as good as anybody else's. Thetrouble with you, Sheckly, you'retoo chicken-hearted. If it weren'tfor me, you'd still be small-timingback on Earth. It takes imaginationto get along these days."
Sheckly grunted, for he had noready answer to deny this truth.While he didn't like the referenceto his inability to get along in theworld without Harding's help, theman was right about other things.It did take imagination, all right,mixed with a generous supply ofplain ordinary guts; that, plus aneye focused unfalteringly on thegood old credit sign.
He certainly could not get alongwithout Harding's timing. Theman knew just when Patrol Shipswould be at certain spots, knewtheir schedules for visiting thesesmall otherworlds, and always hewas several steps ahead of them.They went into a planet, theirrocket ship loaded with gamblingdevices—cards, dice, roulettewheels, and other cultural refinements—andset up shop whichcould be folded at a moment'snotice if necessary. Natives seemedalmost eager to be skinned of theirriches, and he and Harding happilyobliged them.
"Listen to them out there,"Harding marveled, leaning forwardto hear the sharp scrapingsthat represented music. "They mustbe having some kind of ceremony."
Sheckly nodded, shivering slightly,though the air was hot andhumid. He wished again, as heoften had in the past, he couldhave some of Harding's assurance,some of that unrelenting optimismthat insisted everything would turnout favorably. But he didn't likethese strange primitive worlds, hedidn't trust them or their inhabitants.The lizard-people had seemedfriendly enough, but by looking ata strange reptile you couldn't tellhow far it would jump. When theEarth ship landed, the creatureshad come slithering to them withall but a brass band, welcoming theEarthlings with the hissings thatcomposed their language. O