There were more Joes on Venus than you could shake
a ray-gun at. Perhaps there was method in Colonel
Walsh's madness—murder-madness—when he ordered Major
Polk to scan the planet for a guy named Joe.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories
November 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the
U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Colonel Walsh had a great sense of humor. I hated his guts ever sincewe went through the Academy together, but he had a great sense of humor.
For example, he could have chosen a Second Looie for the job on Venus.He might even have picked a Captain. But he liked me about as much asI liked him, and so he decided the job was just right for a Major. Atleast, that's what he told me.
I stood at attention before his desk in the Patrol Station. We weresomewhere in Area Two on Earth, takeoff point for any operations inSpace II. The duty was fine, and I liked it a lot. Come to think ofit, the most I ever did was inspect a few defective tubes every now andthen. The rest was gravy, and Colonel Walsh wasn't going to let me getby with gravy.
"It will be a simple assignment, Major," he said to me, peering overhis fingers. He held them up in front of him like a cathedral.
"Yes, sir," I said.
"It will involve finding one man, a Venusian native."
I wanted to say, "Then why the hell don't you send a green kid onthe job? Why me?" Instead, I nodded and watched him playing with hisfingers.
"The man is a trader of sorts. Rather intelligent." He paused, thenadded, "For a native, that is."
I had never liked Walsh's attitude toward natives. I hadn't liked theway he'd treated the natives on Mars ever since he'd taken over there.Which brought to mind an important point.
"I always figured Venus was under the jurisdiction of Space III, sir. Ithought our activities were confined to Mars."
He folded his fingers like a deck of cards and dropped them on his deskas if he were waiting for me to cut.
"Mmmm," he said, "yes, that's true. But this is a special job. It sohappens this Venusian is the one man who can help us understand justwhat's happening on Mars."
I tried to picture a Venusian understanding Mars and I didn't get veryfar.
"He's had many dealings with the natives there," Walsh explained. "Ifanyone can tell us the reasons for the revolt, he can."
If Walsh really wanted to know the reasons for the revolt, I could givethem to him in one word: Walsh. I had to laugh at the way he calledit "revolt." It had been going on for six months now and we'd lost atleast a thousand men from Space II. Revolt.
"And this man is on Venus now?" I asked for confirmation. I'd neverbeen to Venus, being in Space II ever since I'd left the Moon run. Itwas just like Walsh to ship me off to a strange place.
"Yes, Major," he said. "This man is on Venus."
At the Academy he had called me Fred. That was before I'd reportedhim for sleeping on Boiler Watch. He'd goofed off on a pile of uraniumthat could've, and almost did, blow the barracks sky-high that night.He still thought it was my fault, as if I'd done the wrong thing byreporting him. And now, through the fouled-up machinery that exists inany military organization, he outranked me.
"And the man's name, sir?"
"Joe." A tight smile played on his face.
"Joe what?" I asked.
"Just Joe."
"Just Joe?"
"Yes," Walsh said. "A native, you know. They rarely go in for more thanfirst names. But then, it should be simple to find a man with a namelike Joe. Among the natives, I mean."
"I don't know, sir."
"A relatively simple assignment," Wal