The Queen of Space
By Joseph Slotkin
Helen LaTour had the best hip wriggle in
galactic Burleyque. In fact, it was so good she
hipped herself smack into another dimension!...
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
August 1954
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I was relaxin' with my second Plutonian Stinger in the dignifiedatmosphere of Charley's Venusian Retreat when there was this strangenoise outside the dive, like a flock of hot jets hittin' theatmosphere. Right after a character comes bustin' through the door.
He looks behind him, scared-like, wipin' his forehead with ahandkerchief as big as one of Charley's tablecloths, only cleaner. Hestops near my table.
"I beg your pardon, would you mind if I joined you?"
"Listen, buster, if you got a ulterior motif, such as a touch, you kinhop a jet, and—" I starts. Then I get a really good look, and hearmyself sayin', "Hey, you don't look so good. Maybe you better sit down."
"Thank you, oh thank you very much," he says, floppin' onto one ofCharley's flexible plastic stools.
"Well, I guess I kin maybe be a sucker and go fer just one," I says,while he is still mutterin' somethin' to hisself. "Waiter! Hey, mug!" Iturns back to the little fella, feelin' real expansive, like they say.
"What'll be your pleasure, buster?"
"Oh, but please allow me."
Well, this is a new angle—a panhandler puttin' hisself on the pan.But far be it from me to refuse a barroom curtsy, so I orders anotherJupiter sling.
"I'll have two of those drinks on your tray," the little guy pipes upto the waiter. And the mug, who is also one of Charley's best bouncers,almost drops his load.
"Hey, mister, these here's Plutonian stingers," the waiter yells.
"Y'know what's in them things, fella?" I chimes in. "They get groundvesicantus herbs from Pluto, and—"
"Oh, what difference does it make?" The little guy looked mournful."He'll get me sooner or later, and then—"
"He?" Maybe I had this little guy all wrong. Maybe he was a nut thathad decided to bolt.
"Yes. Perhaps you heard that heat ray gun being discharged, just as Icame in."
"Oh. So that's what them noises was."
"Yes. Wherever I go, he shoots at me. Waits for me to leave thebuilding, and then shoots at me."
"Well, mister, again it's none a my business, but—if you're carryin'any asteroids around—they kin be cashed anywhere. Lots of guys wouldtake pot shots at ya."
"Oh, Luigi isn't interested in my—money."
"Luigi?" That name sent shudders goin' around my curvature.
"Precisely." He gives with a long sigh. "I've been dodging him for sometime now."
"Mister," I says, "everybody knows what a dangerous guy Luigi is. Why,they got his mug on the wanted wall in every space station from here tothe outer galaxies."
"Yes, I presume they have."
"I figure one of these days the cops is gonna pin enough on him tomake him look like a astronavigator's space map," I adds.
"Oh, I doubt if the space control will ever have the opportunity toapprehend him here on Venus. This is still a wild, mostly unsettledplanet, you know. And besides, Luigi is too smart," says this littleguy, like he knows Luigi personal.
"Yeh, he sure is. Uh—what's he got on you?"
The little guy reaches over like he doesn't know he's takin' thePlutonian stinger right from under me nose,