Space For Hire (Seven For Space) by William F Nolan Page B

life."
    "We'd better contact father and tell him we're safe," declared Esma.
    "Nope," I said, shaking my head. "Kane might have his vid tapped. We're better off just popping back unannounced. He'll be safe enough till we get there." I shook hands with Nate. "Thanks for the free buggy ride!"
    "My pleasure, Sam."
    Esma gave him a kiss on the check with each pair of lips. He twittered. "Care for another drink?"
    "We gotta cut out for Bubble City," I told him.
    "But I have more inventions to show you. I'm working on a method in which I may painlessly turn pigs inside out."
    "Whatever for?" Esma wanted to know.
    Nate looked confused. "I'm not sure, to be entirely truthful. There's really no demand for inside-out pigs, is there?"
    "We'll take a raincheck on the porkers," I said. "But you could do one more thing for us."
    "Simply name it."
    "Esma can't hop all the way back to Mars in a guardsman's cape. Got anything else she could wear?"
    "I would imagine so," he said, leading us to the bedbooth. He thumbed open a wall, sifted through racked clothing. "How's this?" He showed us a ladies' fullsuit, waist-ribbed with slashcut sleeves. "My late wife was quite fond of it."
    "I didn't know you'd been married," said Esma.
    "Yes. Dorothy worked with me in some of my earlier experiments. She was carried off and strangled by a mechanical ape. I wasn't much good with my apes in those days. They kept going haywire on me."
    "How sad!" Esma declared, slipping into the fullsuit. A perfect fit.
    Nate got another triplekiss and we beat it.

Seventeen
     
    Before leaving Earth we'd purchased a safe shipment of coldpacs for old Umani — which had allowed Esma to right away slip the doc into afresh body. He was plenty fed up with being a giraffe head.
    When he came out of his labunit to thank me for saving Esma he was a fullblood Oklahoma Cherokee. I explained why my nose was crooked and why I was wearing the face of Kid Smiley, how there hadn't been time for me to get my regular mug restored before picking up the coldpacs.
    "Ug! You catchum heap fine bodies," he grunted, using another of his lousy fake accents. "Me likeum this one you betchum!"
    "I figure I deserve a reward for bringing back your daughter," I told him.
    He nodded his sun-bronzed head. "Great Spirit say you brave man. Me reward you with bonus. Plenty wampum!"
    "That's not the kind of reward I mean. You're paying me enough. I'm not after more credits."
    "Then you tellum chief what want. Me giveum."
    "I want you to stop stalling me on your experiment. I want a full rundown on what you've been fiddling around with and I want to know why F. is trying to stop you."
    We looked at each other. His clouded Indian eyes were fierce, and I thought he'd refuse. But he didn't.
    "Very well then, Mr. Space," he said. "Your request is most certainly valid and you've earned the right to have it granted. Please follow me and I'll explain everything."
    He swung toward his lab and I was right behind him. Verlag blocked me at the door. Bald. Ham-fisted. Red-eyed. A huge chunk of fighting meat who looked as if he'd put his life on the line to keep me out of that lab.
    "Tell your loyal first cousin here to drop the riot act," I said to Umani. "Tell him I've been invited to the party."
    "Allow Mr. Space to enter. Stand aside, man!"
    Verlag stood aside, glaring. I gave him a glare of my own and entered the lab.
    All labs look alike to me. This one looked like Nate Oliver's lab, which looked like most others: tubes, vats, bottles, voltage gimmicks, wires, cables, bubbling fluids. One of Esma's heads was lowered over the eyepiece of a gadget on one of the long tables; her other two heads looked up at me and smiled as I came in. "Sam! I didn't think Daddy would —"
    "Would let me in on the family secrets?" I grinned. "I earned the info and he knows it."
    Umani Indian-nodded, hands folded across his chest. He dug playing chief. Too bad the body was dressed in a plain bizsuit; he needed feathers and buckskins and