Quick Cure
Fantastic Science Fiction – February 1956
(1956)*
Randall Garrett

They needed a brain fixer on Kaibere IV, so naturally it had to be the best man in the business. That would be Dr. Kendrick Dell from Cardigan III. So the Doc showed up with a bag of tools and the desire to earn his fee.

It didn't work out as he had expected; for not only did somebody blow his hand off so he couldn't operate—there wasn't any patient not to operate on!

-

	THE white-hot beam of energy that seared blindingly through the night air of Kaibere IV snuffed out two lives during the fraction of a second of its existence.

	Kendrick Dell heard the woman's scream, but it was almost meaningless to him, combined as it was with his own hoarse shout. He stood for nearly a full minute staring in horror at the charred stump of his forearm where his right hand had been. Then, as footsteps pounded toward him, shock took its toll of his body and he collapsed limply, only a few feet from the body of the dead woman.

	He wasn't dead, but his life was gone—a surgeon without a hand is no longer a surgeon.

	He came up through the cloud of unconsciousness, his mind braced for the feeling of pain. Curiously, the pain didn't come.

	A girl was leaning over him. She said: "How do you feel, Dr. Dell?"

	It took him several seconds to realize just how he did feel. He didn't hurt; he just felt empty. He didn't tell the girl that; instead, he countered with another question.

	"What the hell happened?" His voice sounded strained to his own ears.

	The girl frowned. "Your right hand was burned off just below the wrist. I—I'm afraid I don't know any more than that.

	"We've fitted a prosthetic; you'll be as good as ever as soon as you learn to use it."

	Kendrick knew that was a lie. The synthetic flesh of a prosthetic could never replace his own hand.

	"If you feel well enough," the girl continued hurriedly, "Colonel Tebrin of the Farn City Police would like to talk to you. He may be able to tell you more about the accident."

	Accident, hell! thought Kendrick. "I'll see him," he said aloud.

	The girl opened the door of the hospital room and said something to someone out of Kendrick's sight. A tall, lean man in a gray uniform appeared at the door.

	"I'll only be a few minutes, Dr. Leeth," he said in a firm baritone.

	Doctor Leeth? For the first time, Kendrick took a good look at the girl in the trim, light-green uniform. She filled it well, and the red-brown hair complimented the color nicely.

	The colonel of police came on into the room as the girl left, closing the door behind her.

	"Dr. Kendrick Dell?" he asked crisply.

	Kendrick nodded.

	"I'm sorry to bother you so soon after your operation," the colonel continued, pulling up a chair beside the bed, "but there are some things we'd like to know for the record."

	"Perfectly all right," Kendrick said tonelessly.

	The officer pulled out a notebook and consulted it. "We checked at your hotel room and the spaceport," he said. "You landed five days ago from—"

	"Five days ago!" Kendrick said sharply.

-

	Colonel Tebrin looked up from his notebook. "Yes. Didn't you know? You've been under anasthesia for four days."

	"No, I didn't know," Kendrick said softly. There was something odd here. It didn't take four days to fit a new hand.

	"Mmh. At any rate," the colonel continued, "you landed with the liner Queen of Courlay. Your place of origin is listed as Cardigon III. You checked in at the Farn Hotel, and then went sightseeing. That was at 1300 hours. At 2215, you were in front of the Old Fashioned Tavern on South Ninety-Second Street. Someone using a Lindhurst Fifty beamed down a woman named Kella Glay, and you happened to be in the way." He paused and looked up from his notes. "Is that it?"

	"Essentially," Kendrick agreed.

	The colonel made a note, then looked back at Kendrick.

	"Dr. Dell, may I ask what your business is on Kaibere IV?"

	"I am—was—one of the best neurosurgeons in the Galaxy," Kendrick said. There was no bragging in his voice; he had simply stated a fact.

	"I am aware of that," the colonel said, "but what brought you here? A newly-settled planet like this would hardly sustain the practice of a man like yourself."

	"I was given a substantial retainer to come here to perform some rather delicate brain surgery."

	"I see. Who was your patient?"

	"A man named Corwin. I was contacted by his wife, Mrs. Delpha Corwin."

	"Mmmm. Do you know anyone on Kaibere IV?"

	"Not a soul," said Kendrick. "I've never been here before."

	"You said: 'a substantial retainer'," the policeman said softly. "Now, Dr. Dell, I don't know what you charge for surgery of that sort, but I'd say that your reputation, plus the fact that you've traveled over fifteen hundred parsecs to take the case, would make the fee run well up around a hundred thousand stellors. Correct me if I'm wrong."

	"You're close," Kendrick said.

	"I thought so. That's what makes it so odd." 

	"Odd?"

	"Yes. You see, I make it my business to know everybody of wealth and importance here. It's easy to do, since there are only thirty thousand people on the entire planet. And I can assure you, doctor, there isn't any family named Corwin that could possibly put out money like that. As a matter of fact, I don't think there's anyone by that name on the planet."

-

	Kendrick Dell sat in his hotel room flexing his new right hand. Even after two days, it was still numb and stiff. It always would be, he told himself dourly.

	Colonel Tebrin had been right. There were no Corwins on Kaibere IV.

	Kendrick felt a seething rage just below the surface of his thoughts. Somebody had paid out a thirty thousand stellor retaining fee to get him here. He'd gotten mixed up in a street killing and had his hand burned off—and now there wasn't even a patient to give the retainer back to. He'd have to do that, of course. The operation could never be performed—at least not by Dr. Kendrick Dell.

	He looked again at his pink, new hand and swore softly.

	"There's something damned screwy going on here," he said aloud, "and I, by God, am going to find out what it is!"

	His first stop was the Old Fashioned Tavern, where he'd been hit by the energy beam from an illegal Lindhurst Fifty. He pushed open the door and walked over to the bar. The place was old fashioned, all right; there wasn't an automatic machine in the place, only human bartenders and waiters.

	Kendrick ordered a drink, and, as the bartender poured, he casually slipped a five stellor note onto the bar. "I'd like a little information," he said quietly.

	The barkeep grinned. "Yes, sir. What'll it be?"

	"Do you know a woman named Corwin—Delpha Corwin?" Kendrick asked, picking up his glass.

	"Corwin?" The man shook his head. "Nope. I don't think I ever heard that name before."

	Kendrick changed his tack. "Were you on duty seven days ago, when the shooting took place?"

	"Yeah. Boy, that was a mess. Dame killed and a guy wounded. They still ain't found who did it."

	"I know. What I want to know is, was there a woman in here at the time—alone? She probably acted as though she were waiting for someone who didn't show up." 

	The barman looked oddly at Kendrick before answering. "Yeah, there was a gal in here who was acting just like you said. She's the one that got herself knocked off out front."

	Kendrick dropped the bill to the bar, and the barman scooped it up with a polite "Thanks."

-

	It made sense, Kendrick decided. Hell, yes, it made sense! He'd been told to meet Mrs. Delpha Corwin at the Old Fashioned Tavern. There was no Delpha Corwin, but someone had been there to meet him, and that someone had been killed.

	What was the woman's name? Colonel Tebrin had mentioned it, but the name escaped him. Well, there was one way to find out.

	"What's the name of the newsfac in this town?" he asked the barman.

	"Farn City News," came the answer. "Real original name, ain't it?"

	"Yeah. Thanks." Kendrick finished his drink and went out to the street to grab a taxi.

	The little automatic machine pulled over to the curb at Kendrick's signal. He climbed inside and dialed the directory.

	"Information service," said a voice.

	"Taxi number for the Farn City News."

	"Dial PENwyck 2-3391."

	Kendrick dialed and the machine glided smoothly down the street.

	Kaibere IV was a raw, new world. It was old fashioned and backwards because it had yet to build up any really heavy industry to make the machines and gadgets that provided the ease and comfort found on the older, more settled worlds. It wouldn't take long, though; Kaibere IV had plenty of potential wealth in her seas.

	The great shallow oceans of the planet were filled with the peculiar seaweed that yielded the pseudo-hormone azuronol. The stuff could, of course, he synthesized, but it cost about eighty times as much as the natural product, and couldn't be made in quantity. And, because of the high cobalt content of the seas of Kaibere IV, it was the only place in the Galaxy where the azuronol plant would grow.

	And azuronol was important; it was the only known substance which would stimulate the regeneration of nerve tissue in a human body. Muscles, glands, and bones, when damaged, can repair themselves, if the damage isn't too bad. But not nerve tissue. Once a nerve is damaged, it is damaged forever—unless the patient is doped with azuronol during the healing process.

	With such a gold mine as that, it wouldn't be long until Kaibere IV was the most important planet in the Galaxy.

	The autocab pulled up in front of an imposing looking building which had the words FARN CITY NEWS emblazoned over the door.

	Kendrick pushed open the door and went in.

	He did some fast talking with the receptionist and managed to get permission to look through the files. The girl showed him to the reproducer and left him.

	Kendrick punched for the morning issue of the day after the killing. Within seconds, the newly-printed sheets were sliding out into his hands.

	The killing had made the front page. There was nothing in the article that he hadn't known previously, except the woman's name and the fact that she had been a private secretary to the Planetary Governor.

	Kendrick wondered why Colonel Tebrin hadn't mentioned that.

	He checked the next four issues of the newsfac, but nothing new had turned up. There seemed to be absolutely no motive for the killing, no reason for the girl's death.

	The one other bit of information that interested Kendrick was that Kella Glay had been unmarried. If she had been the mysterious Mrs. Corwin, where was Mr. Corwin? Who was the patient he was supposed to operate on?

	There was nothing else in the sheets before him. He pushed them into the disposal chute, thanked the receptionist for her trouble and went back to his hotel.

	Colonel Tebrin was waiting for him.

-

	"I've been waiting here in the lobby," the colonel said smoothly. "I'd hoped you might join me in a drink."

	"Glad to," said Kendrick, wondering what the policeman had on his mind.

	The hotel bar was more modern than the Old Fashioned Tavern; there were automatic mixer panels at each table. The colonel led the way to a secluded booth, dropped coins in the panel and dialed the code for beer.

	The colonel drank half of his before he said anything. Then he said: "Dr. Dell, I understand you've been prowling around town doing a little detective work."

	"Anything wrong with that?" Kendrick asked.

	"Don't you think it would be better to leave that to the police?"

	"The police haven't found out anything yet," Kendrick countered.

	"Neither have you," Tebrin said. "If anything is found, I'm sure we'll be the ones to do it. You must remember, doctor, that this is a frontier planet. We have one city and millions of square miles of uninhabited country. Our killer could live out in the forest somewhere for years without ever being found. We can't always be as efficient as we'd like to be. Nevertheless, we're doing our best."

	"Look here," said Kendrick sharply, "are you telling me to quit snooping around? Because if you are, I'm telling you right now you can go to hell. I'm not doing anything illegal, and you know it. If you try to stop me illegally, I'll go straight to the Planetary Governor."

	"I—" Tebrin began, but Kendrick cut in.

	"I'd like to remind you, colonel, that I had my hand shot off a week ago—my right hand! Do you know what that means to a surgeon?" He held out the hand and wiggled the fingers in the officer's face. "Sure, I can move 'em! I can pick up cigarettes, beer glasses, and spoons! I can even zip up my pants. But I can't operate with it. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. / can't operate! Do you have any idea what that means?"

	"I think—" the colonel tried again. But he was cut off.

	"I'll tell you what it means: It means that I'm going to find the son of a bitch that did it if I have to take this stinking planet apart one person at a time!"

	Kendrick stopped and sat there, flexing the fingers of the numb prosthetic.

	After a moment, Tebrin said: "I think I understand, and I sympathize. Nevertheless, I warn you: stay out of police business. If we find him, I assure you he'll get what he deserves. After all, we'll have him on a murder charge.

	"My advice to you is: catch the next liner for home. The Fomalhaut leaves tomorrow; I think you should be on it."

	"Is that supposed to be an order?"

	"Not at all," said the colonel smoothly. "I am only thinking of your welfare. The loss of your hand has undoubtedly caused you a great deal of anxiety. I feel that your actions have become distinctly neurotic, caused no doubt by shock. On Cardigon, you can get proper therapy; we haven't the facilities here." He stood up. "I'm very sorry to have to say that, believe me. But I still feel you should take that space-liner."

	Kendrick said nothing, and after a moment, the colonel turned and walked out the door.

	Kendrick Dell paid no attention to him. Instead, he sat looking at the synthetic flesh of his right hand. Not in anger or hatred, but in a kind of dumb awe.

	The fingers were beginning to tingle!

-

	Finally, after several minutes, he stood up and walked out of the bar and across the lobby toward the elevator. The lobby was full of people, but Kendrick took no more notice of them than they took of him.

	There was something wrong with his new hand.

	He stepped out of the elevator and headed toward his own room, still flexing and rubbing the synthetic flesh of his right hand. He unlocked his door and calmly stepped inside.

	There were three men standing in the middle of the room. They were masked and one of them was pointing a stun gun at Kendrick's stomach.

	His mind came sharply back into focus. "What the hell do you want?" he snapped.

	"We want you to come with us," said the man holding the stunner.

	At that, Kendrick blew up. He had been maimed, lied to, cheated, pushed around by an overly solicitous cop. Now it was kidnaping, and that was just too damned much.

	He took a flying leap at the legs of the man with the gun. It went off, and the stun beam whined over his head. The kidnaper toppled over backwards. Kendrick jumped up and hit the second man hard in the solar plexus. He doubled up and a fist of synthetic flesh smacked satisfyingly against the point of his jaw.

	The third man grabbed his arm and tried to twist it behind his back, but Kendrick twisted away and chopped at the man's neck with the edge of his palm. But his target moved too fast; the kidnaper leaped back out of Kendrick's reach.

	Kendrick heard a noise behind him and turned suddenly. The fallen man with the stun gun had pointed the weapon straight at Kendrick's head. The weapon snapped and whined, and Kendrick didn't hear another thing.

-

	His hands were bound behind his back, and his ankles were taped together. That was the first thing Kendrick realized when he opened his eyes. The second thing was that the man with the stun gun was sitting on a chair facing him. The plastic mask still covered his face.

	"You've finally come out of it, eh?"

	Kendrick didn't even bother answering. He tried twisting his hands in the tape binding, but the ribbon was too tough to give much.

	"I don't think you'll get out of that," said the armed man quietly. "And if you do, I'll give you another dose of the stunner before you try anything."

	Kendrick's eyes harrowed. Then, in low, even tones, he started to talk. He used every filthy expletive he knew, and directed them at the man in the chair. When he had run out of words, he started all over again, this time with reference to the parents, sisters, brothers, cousins and friends of his assailant.

	When he ran out of breath, he filled his lungs twice, and then added: "And that goes for your boss, Colonel Tebrin, too!"

	"What about Tebrin?" asked the other sharply. He had calmly ignored Kendrick's preceding remarks.

	Before Kendrick could say anything, the masked man went on: "Believe me, Dr. Dell, if this were Tebrin's work, it wouldn't have to be this hush-hush. Tebrin would have done it officially, neatly, and without fuss. I'm afraid we have to be rather crude about it.

	"Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and your answers will be what decides what's going to happen to you in the next few minutes. I'm not threatening you—I'm just telling you."

	Kendrick didn't say anything, so the man went on.

	"You came here to operate on someone. Who was it?"

	Kendrick's hands were working with the tape behind his back. To stall for time, he answered the question, telling exactly what he had told Tebrin.

	"And you came here with no more information than that?"

	"It seemed like a perfectly legitimate case," Kendrick said. "I had no reason to believe otherwise."

	"Did you know Kella Glay, the woman who was killed?"

	"No. But I think she was the mysterious Mrs. Corwin."

	"What?" The man's voice sounded excited.

	Kendrick explained. He did it slowly and carefully; the tape around his hands was beginning to give a little.

	"All right, Dr. Dell. Now I'm going to explain something to you. You don't know much about the political setup here, do you?"

	Kendrick didn't, and admitted it.

	"Theoretically, it's like any other newly settled planet. We have a Planetary Governor appointed by the Galactic Council. He is responsible only to the Council and can theoretically become an absolute dictator in times of emergency.

	"But Kaibere IV is an unusual case because of the azuronol production here.

	"Here's what our group has found out. Part of the azuronol production is being diverted from legitimate channels, and the profit is going into the pockets of our friend Colonel Tebrin, who, by the way, is the most powerful man on this planet."

	"That doesn't make sense," Kendrick objected. "In the first place, there wouldn't be any market for bootleg azuronol, and in the second place, Tebrin couldn't do anything like that without the Planetary Governor knowing about it.

	"And don't try to tell me that the Governor is in on it. Those men are tested and conditioned thoroughly by the Galactic Council before they are allowed to take training for the position."

	"I know," said the man softly. "That's what's bothering us. Our group still hasn't figured that angle out yet."

	"You keep saying: 'Our group'," Kendrick cut in. "Just what is your group?"

-

	The answer came, but not from the man in the mask. A door on the other side of the room was pushed open and a girl came in. Kendrick recognized her after a startled moment. It was Dr. Leeth, the girl at the hospital.

	"Mayna!" the man in the mask shouted. "What the hell are you doing here?"

	"Calm down, Dad," she said. "I had to come as soon as I found out that you had Dr. Dell here."

	"But you weren't supposed to contact me in any way! If Tebrin suspects—"

	"Dad," she interrupted, "I've been trying to get hold of you for four days, but, I didn't have a chance to get away from the hospital until a short time ago." She walked over to the couch where Kendrick was lying and began to peel off the tape on his wrists.

	"Mayna!" the man she had addressed as "Dad" said, "are you sure you know what you're doing?"

	"Certainly. Remember, I had him under azuronol for four days. That, plus the sedative, kept him helpless and rather talkative. He doesn't know any more about this than you or I."

	As the last of the tape came off, Kendrick sat up and began removing it from his ankles. "Would you two mind explaining who you are and what the blind hell is going on?"

	"I'm Mayna Leeth, as you know," the girl said calmly. "This man is my father, Dr. Edder Leeth. There are several other doctors with us; we're part of a Galactic Council Project to study the effects of azuronol on the human nervous system. Unfortunately, ever since we discovered azuolamine, we've been constantly under the thumb of Colonel Tebrin and the police."

	"Azuolamine?" Kendrick looked at her oddly. "How many more new drugs are you going to pull out of the hat?"

	She laughed softly. "We've got several. Azuolamine is a derivative of the original azuronol; it's a habit-forming nerve stimulant.

	"I think you can see what that would mean. It's as vicious as opium or heroin or nitrolabe, except that instead of depressing the central nervous system it stimulates it. Under its influence, a person feels excited, alive, gay, and giddy. The senses are alert, the muscles ready for action.

	"But when it wears off, the patient sinks into depression. Everything seems gray and dull and boring by comparison. So he takes another dose. Eventually, he needs the drug just to feel normal; the stuff burns out the nervous system from overcharge."

	"I see," nodded Kendrick. "And that's what Colonel Tebrin is diverting some of the azuronol shipments for. He makes azuolamine out of it. I suppose he intends to start a new drug traffic in the stuff."

	"That's the way we have it figured," said the girl. "We are trying to stop him before anything can get started on a Galaxy-wide scale."

-

	Kendrick still wasn't absolutely sure where he stood, but at least his hands and feet were free. He decided he'd" play along for a while.

	"Why haven't you done anything about it?" he asked. "Why haven't you reported it to the Planetary Governor or to the Council?"

	Edder Leeth had taken off the plastic mask to reveal an older, masculine version of his daughter's face. "We can't prove anything," he replied. "We know he's got a big cache of the drug hidden somewhere, and we know he's got a pilot plant set up somewhere to process it. But we can't search a whole planet. Even with the Galactic Navy to help us, it would take years.

	"Besides, if we even let Tebrin know we were suspicious, it would be the end of us. He'd have us hushed up fast."

	"Just where do I fit in on this?" Kendrick wanted to know.

	"We don't know," said Edder. "You were brought here by someone to do prefrontal surgery on someone. That's all we know."

	"Dad's been out in the countryside for several months, trying to get a lead on his plant," Mayna supplied. "We feel sure it must be close to Farn City. And, so far, we've found nothing."

	Kendrick stood up and glanced at his watch. "It's past midnight. Tebrin warned me that I'd better take the liner for Cardigon tomorrow—that is, today. I'm going to get some sleep and then see if I can dig up anything on the colonel." He paused, then said savagely. "And if I can't do that, I'll kill him myself!"

-

	Kendrick caught a cab from the suburban house where the Leeths had held him. He dialed the number of the Farn City News and fidgeted impatiently as the car sped through the dimly lit streets.

	The building was closed, but there was a night editor on duty who agreed to let Kendrick look through the files after a fifty stellor note changed hands.

	First, he checked through everything they had oh Colonel Aid Tebrin. There wasn't a devil of a lot, but there was enough to tell Kendrick what he wanted to know. The pieces began to fall into place rapidly.

	All he needed now was the master key, and the whole business would be as clear as day. He wasn't sure exactly what the thing was he was looking for, but he knew he'd recognize it when he saw it. It took nearly four hours of search before he finally came across the piece he was looking for. By that time, he'd fed hundreds of sheets of print into the disposal slot, and his fingers were sore from punching buttons.

	The item was headlined:

-
PLANETARY GOVERNOR
IN AIRCAR ACCIDENT
-

	Kendrick read it through and grinned tigerishly to himself. That was it. There was no doubt in his mind about what had happened and why. All he had to do now was set a trap.

	He left the News building and went to a public phone. The Leeth residence was in the directory. Edder Leeth answered the phone.

	"What is it, Dr. Dell?"

	"How would you like to get your hands on Tebrin? I mean permanently, and with no suspicion directed towards you."

	At first, Dr. Leeth wasn't quite sure he approved of the idea, but within a few minutes Kendrick had him waxing enthusiastic.

	When everything had been arranged satisfactorily, Kendrick cut the circuit and dialed another number.

	Colonel Tebrin had evidently been asleep. His face on the screen looked half-awake, and his hair was awry.

	"Who is it? ... Oh. What the devil do you want this time of night, Dr. Dell?" His voice was peevish.

	"I hate to get you up, colonel," Kendrick said suavely, "but I ran across some information that might interest you. I have positive evidence that links up the murder of Kella Glay with the azuolamine manufacturing on this planet."

	The colonel's eyes grew wide, then narrowed again. "How did you learn that?"

	"Never mind. If you want to find out, you can pick me up at the corner of Beck and Fourth Street in twenty minutes. I want you to come alone, and I don't want you to get any ideas that you can take me in. The information I have is well protected."

	"I'll be there," said Tebrin coldly.

	"I figured you would," grinned Kendrick. But the phone was already dead.

-

	Twenty minutes later, the big police car, with Tebrin driving, pulled up alongside the curb where Kendrick Dell was standing. Kendrick was ready for him. He opened the door and slid in alongside the colonel; almost in the same motion, his hand reached swiftly out and jerked the gun from the astonished Tebrin's holster.

	He pointed the heavy Lindhurst Twelve at the policeman's chest. "I'm sorry, colonel, but it's necessary. We're going to have a little talk, then we're going for a ride. Just behave yourself."

	The colonel said nothing, but there was hate in his eyes.

	When Kendrick pushed Tebrin through the front door of the Leeth residence forty-five minutes later, dawn was beginning to show in the east as the planet rotated to face the Kaibere sun. In the living room were eight men and a girl. All of them were armed. Kendrick knew who they were: members of the research team that was working on azuronol.

	He pushed the officer into a chair and then sat down where he could see everyone in the room. Eight stun guns and a Lindhurst Twelve faced Colonel Tebrin.

	"Colonel," Kendrick said conversationally, "you're one of the biggest egotists I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Or maybe the term should be 'glory hog.' If you hadn't tried to go into this thing on your own, you wouldn't have bungled it so badly."

	The colonel glared at him.

	"When a man is on trial," Kendrick continued, "it's customary to present the evidence against him, so let's look at it.

	"Eight clays ago, Kella Glay, secretary to the Planetary Governor was shot and killed. My right hand was burned off at the same time. All this time, we've been looking for a killer, and we've gotten exactly nowhere. Why? Because the killing Was entirely accidental! The killer didn't want her; she happened to step into the way of the beam just as the gun went off. The target was my right hand!

	"Why? So I couldn't operate.

	"Now, we'll have to go back a little farther to explain that. A little over a year ago, the Planetary Governor was hurt in an aircar accident. He was taken to a hospital. While he was there, someone performed a very simple operation on his brain. Certain nerve trunks were severed. After it was over, the Governor seemed almost the same as ever, but a tiny receiver had been planted in the brain tissue. By broadcasting the proper pulses, the Governor could be made to do anything the operator wanted him to.

	"He wasn't asked to do much, just coyer up the fact that the full quota of azuronol wasn't going where it ought to.

	"Kella Glay found out about the gadget somehow, and she knew that removing it and replacing the nerve trunks took greater skill than the comparatively simple operation that put it there. She knew that if the drug ring ever found out what she was up to, they'd take steps against her. So she sent for me, using the phony name of Corwin.

	"But evidently the news leaked out. It was almost too late for our master-mind to do anything, but he did follow me around with a Lindhurst Fifty. He fired just as Kella Glay stepped out of the Old Fashioned Tavern.

	"He would have had to kill her eventually, of course, but I have a hunch he didn't know she was going to be there. It was pure luck on his part that she stepped into the beam.

	"There is, of course, only one man who could have—"

	"Oh, no, Dr. Leeth! Drop that gun!" Kendrick had swung the deadly Lindhurst Twelve so that it pointed at Edder Leeth.

-

	Stunned as they were, none of the other doctors had time to move at first. Then one of them took the stun gun out of Leeth's hand.

	"How did you know?" the doctor asked. His voice shook.

	"Earlier this morning, you said you knew I'd come here to perform a prefrontal operation. How did you know it was that particular area of the brain? I'd never told anyone.

	"You've been playing both ends against the middle, doctor. The rest of the men on the research team knew that the drug was being stolen; you couldn't conceal that. So you made it look as though Tebrin were behind it.

	"And the colonel played right into your hands, as you knew he would. His record shows that he likes to play the lone wolf. He could have called in the Galactic Navy, and he would have done it eventually. But he wanted a complete case to present to them, and you knew he'd never get it as long as the Governor was under your control.

	"You told your colleagues you were out in the bush trying to find the pilot plant that was producing azuolamine from the stolen azuronol. You knew where it was—you'd built it.

	"I suppose you'd better call in your men," Kendrick went on, turning to the colonel. As the officer went to the door, Kendrick turned back to the shaken doctor. "I explained the whole thing to Tebrin."

	The Farn City Police were soon filling the room. They put magnetic cuffs on Edder Leeth and bundled him out to the waiting patrol car.

	"You handled that well," said Colonel Tebrin. His manner was polite, but icy. The sting of Kendrick's insults still hurt. "When he turned that stun gun on you, I thought you'd shoot then for what he did to your hand."

	The girl said, "We've done a lot of work with prosthetics here. Thanks to azuronol, we can actually cause nerve tissue to grow into synthetic flesh. As soon as Dr. Dell gets used to the new nerve circuits, he'll be able to work as well as ever."

	"Thanks a lot, Doctor."

	She shook her head. "I don't want your thanks," she said dully. "What you did was right, I can appreciate that. But he was still my father. I respect you for what you did, but you can't expect me to like you."

	"No, I suppose not." He looked at the colonel, then back at the girl. "I can see I've made a lot of friends on Kaibere IV."

	Then he turned and headed out toward the waiting patrol car. He had a spaceship to catch.

The End