The light, filtering through Venus' eternal cloud blanket, was a soft gray, not intense enough to cast shadows. Gavin Murdock noted the phenomena with a frown as he walked along the Street of Sorrow.

In the center of the block, he paused suddenly, lit a cigarette. His eyes, darting across the lighter's flame, searched the crooked twilit street behind him. He was just in time to see a figure flatten itself in a doorway.

Gavin's lips tightened. Ever since leaving the Commissioner's he had been conscious of being followed. There had been a man on the corner below his window when he packed his luggage and sent it off to the Nova. The same man had been loitering near the corner as he set off for the Temple of Joy to meet the officers.

He certainly didn't intend to tip his hand by communicating with the T.I.S. Commandant Samuels would know that he had accomplished the first step of that intricate plan, hatched in the head offices of the Terrestial Intelligence Service, when they saw his name on the Nova's articles.

He allowed his glance to travel about the street. He was in the Old Port district. Once it had been the heart of the city, but, the big space lines having built a new field on the bogs of Antram just north of Venusport, the crumbling rocket blast pits of Old Port were no longer used except by slavers, smugglers and a few tramp freighters.

He turned abruptly on his heel and resumed his course toward the Temple of Joy. Let them trail him; they'd learn nothing for their pains.

From the Street of Sorrows, he emerged into Venner Square. The statue of August Venner, the first Terrestial to bridge the void and set foot on Venus, rose green with mold in the center of the plaza.

It began to drizzle.

Gavin glanced at his watch. In a few minutes it would be dark. Already the fungus, lichens and mosses creeping up the face of the buildings were radiating a greenish phosphorescent glow. He quickened his pace across the square. As he entered Mercury Alley, he glanced back.

The figure was furtively skirting the statue.

The alley ahead was deserted. It was a blind alley and at the head of it was The Temple of Joy where the officers of the Nova would be beginning their night's carousal.

A frown made two vertical furrows between Gavin's sandy brows. Then a movement at the other end of Mercury Alley caught his attention. Two men were bearing down on him. They came ahead in the open, but with caution.

A shiver of apprehension coursed up Gavin's spine. He spun around. The shadower behind him was no longer furtive. He too was closing in warily. Both exits of the alley were closed. Except for a single bar, the buildings on either hand were dark and silent. Trap!

The bar should have a rear exit. Gavin wheeled suddenly and plunged through the door. A barmaid industriously polishing the plastic bar glanced up as Gavin slammed the door. There was one customer, a Terran, seated at a corner table. He smiled at Gavin. "Won't you have a seat, Mr. Murdock?"

Gavin halted in mid-stride to regard the man in utter astonishment. He was a nondescript-looking fellow, middle-aged, with a slight black mustache.

"Won't you sit down, Mr. Murdock?" he repeated genially. "I was beginning to fear you'd never arrive."

The girl crossed silently to the door and bolted it.

Gavin's bewilderment gave way rapidly to caution. His pale blue eyes narrowed; his face hardened. He had been herded into the bar, he realized, like a horse into a corral.

"Sit down," urged the middle-aged man for the third time. "What'll you have?"

Gavin reached a decision. He sat down with his back to the wall so that he could keep both the door and the barmaid under observation and said, "Bourbon."

"Fetch the gentleman bourbon, Meg," said the middle-aged man in a pleasant voice.

The girl brought a bottle of Terran whiskey and a glass, placing them on the table before Gavin. She was a buxom blonde with hard, unsmiling blue eyes and hard, painted features. Her violet shorts fit too tight and she was wearing the sketchiest kind of halter around her full breasts.

Gavin poured himself a drink and waited.

"You're wondering, no doubt," began the middle-aged man, "how we knew who you were and the route you'd take." He smiled briefly. "We have our ways of knowing, Mr. Murdock. Let me assure you that, before we decided to approach you, we made a complete examination of your record. For instance, you were chief engineer of the Europa. That was vital. We had to have a man with a technical knowledge of space drives."

Gavin allowed consternation to register on his face, but thought, A good bluff—if I had been chief engineer of the Europa! The middle-aged man, he realized, was only parroting the misinformation he had given Trev, the Martian. Obviously, he had learned about Gavin from either Trev or that girl, Nadia Petrovna. Captain Cabot wouldn't be apt to double-cross himself and this had all the earmarks of treachery.

Gavin drank and asked, "Well?"

"You're an astro-engineer, Mr. Murdock. We're interested."

"Who's 'we'?"

The middle-aged man pulled out a handkerchief with which to pat his sallow cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mr. Murdock, but I'm not at liberty to reveal that."

Gavin scowled. "Who are you?"

"One alias is as good as another." The man smiled pleasantly. "X will do for the present. Suppose you call me Mr. X. I represent a group, Mr. Murdock, who are interested in the Nova's space drive."

"Well?" said Gavin dryly. The group whom Mr. X represented weren't the only ones interested in Nova's spacedrive. The T.I.S., for one, was particularly concerned about it. The Nova made the crossing between Jupiter and Venus with her contraband load of slaves in an impossibly short space of time. The crack patrol ships of the Empire had neither been able to keep the Nova in sight nor trap her. Gavin's early experience as an astro-engineer with Tri-World had been the really important reason that he had been assigned to the job.

Mr. X put the tips of his pudgy fingers together. "As third assistant-engineer of the Nova, Mr. Murdock, you will have an unrivaled opportunity to study her drive. We're willing to pay and pay handsomely for the secret of that drive."

"How much?"

"A million credits," replied Mr. X, without blinking an eye.

Gavin allowed his breath to escape between his teeth. He knew now who was behind Mr. X and it didn't make him any happier. Only one of the big corporations on Terra-United Spaceways, General Atomic, Tri-World, or Amalgamated plastic—could offer such a sum. The Gargantuan companies maintained their own investigation agencies, ruthless, efficient gestapos willing to go to any length to get their hands on valuable discoveries.

He stood up, saying, "I'll think it over."

"I'm afraid you'll have to reach a decision now." X's voice was cold.

Gavin's hard blue eyes went wary.

The T.I.S. maintained in their secret files a complete record of every man and woman engaged in the slave trade. Gavin had studied it thoroughly in preparation for this assignment. Trev, he knew, besides being a broker in slaves for Josiah Cabot, was suspected of dealing in merchandise of a great deal more dangerous character. Scientific secrets.

Trev was a free lance, buying from independent spies and selling to the highest bidder. He was tolerated because the very corporations and governments he stole from were also his patrons. Trev would have connections with all the secret agencies of the different corporations. If anyone were dickering with X to sell the Nova's space drive, Trev would be the likeliest suspect. And, if Trev thought Gavin was dickering with X, the Martian wouldn't hesitate to betray him to Cabot.

That was one side.

On the other hand, it might be a trap. His best policy was to have nothing to do with X.

He said, "I don't do business with someone I don't know. I'm going now. Don't try to stop me."

"Meg," said Mr. X.

Gavin felt the girl's hand seize his shoulders in a grip of steel. She had come up behind him lightly as a cat. Her fingers dug into his arms and held him like a vise. Her buxomness, he realized, in dismay, must be solid muscle.

"Kill him," she advised X over Gavin's shoulder. "He's probably a spy for one of the other companies." She had a harsh metallic voice.

X looked undecided.

Gavin wrenched his shoulders. The girl merely tightened her grip until his biceps felt numb. She smelled strongly of arsilene, a heavy sweetish Martian perfume.

She said over his shoulder again, "Who else but one of their spies would refuse a million credits?"

The shot struck home. X made an expression of distaste and slipped his hand in the pocket of his jacket.

It was no time for gallantry. Gavin snapped back his head. His skull crushed into the girl's face. Her hands loosened. With a wrench, he jerked free and kicked the table in X's lap.

With a wrench, Gavin jerked free!

Gavin bounded around the table, pulling his hands from his pockets. Brass knucks gleamed on both fists. X was scrambling up from beneath the debris. Gavin hit him in the temple.

He whirled in time to see the big blonde reaching for him. Gavin had no intention of letting her get her hands on him again. His gleaming knucks caught the girl on the jaw. She folded to the floor, half-across the legs of the unconscious X.

He regarded the pair for a moment, catching his breath. Then he went to the door, shot a bolt and opened it cautiously. The three men who had herded him into the bar were standing just outside.

He backed out, waved negligently and said, "I'll see you later, then," loudly enough for the three men to hear, and closed the door.

The men eyed him coldly. As soon as he was past they trooped inside.

Gavin instantly lit out running at top speed. He didn't slow down until he skidded inside the Temple of Joy half a block away and brought up panting before a startled headwaiter. "Where's the Nova party?"

"Nova party, sir?"

"Yes, yes," Gavin said impatiently. He changed position so he could keep the entrance in sight. "The officers of the Nova are throwing a celebration here tonight. Where are they, man? Speak up."

The waiter looked at Gavin as if he were crazy. "I never heard of them," he said. "There's no such party here."

Gavin's lips thinned. He was silent a moment, digesting this information. He glanced toward the door. To return now to the street would be fatal. They would be waiting for him. He wasn't safe even here in the lobby of the Temple of Joy. He wanted to mix in with the safety of crowds and lights.

He gave the waiter a bill, saying, "Get me a table then, near the wall."

The waiter's expression changed miraculously. He said, "Yes, sir," and ushered Gavin into the inner sanctum.

A heady, throbbing rhythm beat like surf in Gavin's ears. The light was dim, rosy, intimate. Gavin threaded his way between the seated patrons conscious of laughter, of bare shoulders and arms, of vivid splashes of color.

"Here, sir," said the waiter. Gavin sat down and ordered bourbon.

A Martian girl was executing a barbaric dance in a cleared space in the center of the floor. When the waiter brought Gavin his drink, he sipped it guardedly, dividing his attention between the dancer and the entrance. From the corner of his eye, he saw someone come inside. He turned his head and immediately stiffened.

It was Nadia Petrovna. She was alone.

The girl paused at the edge of the tables, her long black eyes sweeping the room. When they reached Gavin, they halted. She waved and started for his table.

Her costume, Gavin realized, must have been designed individually for Nadia by one of the great Martian fashion artists. Two plates of thinnest rose plastic inlaid with delicate gold lace work had been moulded to conform exactly to her high small breasts. What kept them in place was a mystery—one which Gavin wouldn't have been above solving. A full skirt of rose satin hung low on slim ample hips and fell to the instep of her gold sandals.

He stood up as she approached, holding a chair for her.

She didn't sit down. Her face appeared whiter than when he had last seen her in Trev's office. She said hurriedly, in an undertone.

"Where have you been? The party was cancelled. We've been scouring Venusport for you. The Nova sails in an hour."

"Sit down," said Gavin.

"But ..." she began and then sank into the chair.

Gavin took his seat, saying, "The Nova wasn't scheduled to sail until tomorrow."

"I know." Her voice was urgent. "It's an emergency of some sort. I don't know what's happened. Captain Cabot got our clearance from the port of authorities just a few minutes ago. Hurry, please. I've a cab waiting outside." She started to push back from the table.

"We've an hour," said Gavin dryly. His hard blue eyes regarded the girl with a thoughtful stare. There had been no record of this girl in the T.I.S.'s secret file. What did it mean? He wondered again why she had lied for him in Trev's office.

He asked suddenly, "Does the Temple have a back door?"

"I don't know."

"We're going to find out."

He stood up and left money on the table. When Nadia still hesitated, Gavin took her arm lightly but firmly and urged her toward the stage door.

A yellow-skinned Venusian, his green eyes cold as glass, stopped them at the entrance of the passage. "You can't come backstage," he said.

On the dance floor, a flock of girls dressed like Ganymedian natives were performing an orgiastic dance. The drums in the orchestra beat out a sultry rhythm. Gavin reached in his pocket for a bill. A disturbance at the main door caused him to look up quickly.

A man had just entered across the room. It was Mr. X.

Nine men followed X through the door, fanning out among the tables. They were armed with bell-mouthed, Dixon ray rifles.

"Everybody keep your seat!" Mr. X called out sharply.

A woman screamed. The drums stopped. The dancing girls lapsed into a confused huddle.

Instead of a bill, Gavin brought the knucks out of his pocket and clipped the Venusian behind his ear. Snatching the girl's arm, he dragged her through the door.

"Run," he commanded. "Run like hell!" He pushed her down the long dimly lit corridor ahead of them.

Nadia ran. She hiked up her skirts and ran as if the devil himself were after her. Gavin, hard on her heels, caught the reflection of a yellow ray as one of X's men turned loose at the stage door. The sound of screams, shouts and overturned tables pursued them down the corridor.

Gavin caught glimpses of dressing rooms, a scad of Venusian and Terran girls changing costume. He nearly collided with an electronician. Then they burst through a small chamber where a wizened Mercurian sat in a chair propped against the wall—and out into the street.

It was the next street over from Mercury Alley, Gavin realized. He hailed a robot cab, piled in with the girl and said, "Pit Nine."

The cab darted away from the curb. Gavin caught a flash of bare leg, stared at Nadia. She was hunched in her corner, her face a dim oval in the darkened interior. She pointed something black at him.

"I've got a dart-gun!" Her voice trembled. "Don't move! Or I'll shoot!"