"Feyjak, eh? They ought to give her a medal. I feel sorry for the girl—good-looker, too. Still sounds like a police job."
Heydrick growled. "Yes, it does. Just some more rotten politics. There's not supposed to be any politics in the Space Patrol. Hooey! The Red Scientists are in power, and my foster father, Tyko, is head man of the Blue. So I get assignments like this. Just so they can get a whack at Tyko. They hope I'll fail—that's all they want."
The inspector warmed noticeably. "So Tyko's your foster? I'm a blue myself ... out of working hours. That's why I'm stuck in a last frontier hellhole like this. Anything I can do to help?"
Heydrick loosened up and sat down. "I don't know. It's a mean job any way you look at it. The girl says she didn't kill him. They can't use scopolamine. She's a desert dweller of the old blood, and it doesn't work on 'em. Why would she kill Feyjak? He wasn't a bad sort. A bit dim, but that's all. Of course, if she's a Wilding, that would explain after a fashion. They're all fanatics, but why Feyjak? They could knock off a lot of others more important. We got a tip she's hiding out on Ganymede. A place called the Spacerat's Roost. Know anything about it?"
The inspector whistled. "Not much. Enough to stay clear of the place. It's a dive in the Interplanetary Quarter, a damn tough hole. Mostly Plutonium prospectors and fungi hunters hang out there. We suspect it's mixed up in the illegal Moondrug traffic, but can't prove anything. I never send my boys into that quarter unless it's necessary, and then only in squads of four. Sure you don't want help?"
Heydrick grinned sourly. "I wouldn't want your boys to get their pretty uniforms dirty. Do you think you could make me look like a Plutonium prospector?"
"Can do—that all?"
"Draw me a map of the district. I'll need to know my way around."
"I'd rather draw it than show you. I wouldn't go there alone. Not at night. They don't like cops."
"Neither do I." Heydrick showed his teeth like an amiable wolf.