were plenty tough. At least mine was. I didn't have any time to see how Shane was doing. I was far too busy with my own scrap.
If they had atomic blasters on their persons, they hadn't been bright enough to have them ready as they stepped into the alley. The big rascal with whom I was tussling had a pair of fists on him like atom drivers, and I was catching plenty from every direction.
The slime in which we wallowed was an advantage I was playing for. I had a handful of the stuff, and as my hulking opponent lurched in at me again, I let him have the sticky ooze right in the eyes.
It was like hitting a blind man—but much more enjoyable. While he staggered around, groping at the goo in his eyes, I gave him my Sunday punch and he went out cold.
I turned, breathing heavily and triumphantly, ready to sail in and give Shane any help that might be needed.
But Shane, arms folded across his chest, was calmly watching the end of my battle. From the inert lump of human anatomy at his feet, I realized that he'd wound up his battle before I'd even started mine.
"A dirty way to win a fight, Corporal Cork," Shane observed disapprovingly.
"You're a chum, all right," I snapped. "How long were you standing by there, watching me tussle with this toughie?"
"Time," said Shane, annoyingly smug, "is a relative thing."
Varda had come from her refuge.
"We must hurry, now," she said. 'There may be others!"
I was still annoyed. I could feel the slime Of the alley slogging around in my space boots. An unpleasant sensation.
"Before we go any farther," I said with sudden inspiration, "don't you think we deserve to know what this is all about?"
Varda said hurriedly,
"Please, there will be time enough to tell you later. Now we must hurry."
"But I want to know," I said doggedly.
"Corporal Cork," Shane said, taking my arm and pushing me back to the street sidewalk, "you heard what the young lady said. We have to wait until we're safely away from any other dangers. She'll tell us then, and that should be time enough."
"Time," I snapped, "is a relative thing."
"Where do we go from here?" Shane asked Varda, ignoring my insistence.
"Follow me," the girl said. "It is not so very far."
I grunted disgustedly, and stepped in beside Shane and the girl.
"Let's get this thing over with pretty quickly," I told my chum. "Our liberty will be running out any time now."
VENUSIAN streets are just about the most impossibly twisting, annoyingly complicated avenues of travel I've ever encountered. You can't go more than a mile before you get hopelessly snarled up in a sudden flurry of small canals. Then you have to trace your steps back along the firma you've traveled, and seek another way out of the puzzle.
Varda didn't know her Venus very well. And if the place to which she was taking us was really rather near, she was going by way of Saturn and Jupiter. We must have walked for nearly half an hour.
"When do we arrive?" I complained.
"Don't criticize the girl," Shane said protectively. "She's probably trying to throw other pursuers off the track."
"I'd rather turn and face them than plod around any longer," I declared. "I'm a space ship stroller, not a mud marcher."
