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  On yet-to-be-discovered planets and in far-flung galaxies, as well as here on Terra in centuries to come, police will patrol the skyways. They—and the malefactors they pursue—may be humans, they may be humanoids, or completely strange life forms, or even robots. Time and space barriers will be crossed with ease—it will be possible to anticipate many events before they occur. Thus “routine” crime will be prevented, but subtler, more complex attacks against civilizations and individuals will demand use of all the scientific advancements that are made in future ages.

  An invisible bandit, murder committed in an inaccessible hotel room, sardines with reasoning powers, a pirate in interstellar space—these are just a few of the many bizarre ingredients to be found in the thrilling science-fiction stories that make up this volume.

  A noted authority in the field brings together top science-fiction writers in this outstanding collection. Stories by Roy L. Clough, Jr., Kendall Foster Crossen, and James Blish are concerned with the future policing of Terra; George Longdon, H. Beam Piper, and Ralph Williams write of Terra being policed by beings from other planets; and the police of galaxies across space are the subject for stories by L. Ron Hubbard, James H. Schmitz, and Jack Vance.

  Space Police presents yet another aspect of the picture of future worlds and civilizations envisioned in the short stories collected in Space Pioneers and Space Service. All science-fiction fans will derive great enjoyment from this new anthology.

  ANDRE NORTON, the editor of World’s highly successful Bullard of the Space Patrol, Space Service, and Space Pioneers, has written more than a dozen books of historical adventure, sagas, and modern spy mysteries for teen-age readers. She is the editor of the Gnome Press teen-age science-fiction department, and an avid student and collector of science fiction.

  Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 56-5309

  F I R S T E D I T I O N

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  The Publishers wish to acknowledge with thanks permission to use the following stories contained in this volume:

  “Bait” by Roy L. Clough, Jr. Copyright 1951 by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted from Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1951, by permission of the publisher and the author.

  “The Closed Door” by Kendall Foster Crossen. Copyright 1953 by Ziff-Davis Publishing Company. Reprinted from Amazing Stories, August-September 1953, by permission of the author’s agent, Forrest Ackerman.

  “Beep” by James Blish. Copyright 1954 by Galaxy Publishing Corporation. Reprinted from Galaxy, February 1954, by permission of the author’s agent, Kenneth S. White.

  “Of Those Who Came” by George Longdon. Copyright 1953 by King-Size Publications, Inc. Reprinted from Fantastic Universe, June-July 1953, and New Worlds, November 1952, by permission of the author’s agent, E. J. Carnell.

  “Police Operation” by H. Beam Piper. Copyright 1948 by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted from Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1948, by permission of the author’s agent, Harry Altshuler.

  “Pax Galactica” by Ralph Williams. Copyright 1952 by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted from Astounding Science-Fiction, November 1952, by permission of the author’s agent, Scott Meredith.

  “Tough Old Man” by L. Ron Hubbard. Copyright 1950 by Better Publications, Inc. Reprinted from Startling Stories, November 1950, by permission of the author’s agent, Forrest Ackerman.

  “Agent of Vega” by James H. Schmitz. Copyright 1949 by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted from Astounding Science-Fiction, June 1949, by permission of the author and his agent, Scott Meredith. “The Sub-Standard Sardines” by Jack Vance. Copyright 1949 by Better Publications, Inc. Reprinted from Startling Stories, January 1949, by permission of the author’s agent, Scott Meredith.

  HC1255

  Copyright © 1956 by The World Publishing Company. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher, except for brief passages included in a review appearing in a newspaper or magazine. Manufactured in the United States of America.

  Space Police

  (book cover)

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Acknowledgments

  Copyright

  Foreword

  WE POLICE OURSELVES: FUTURE TENSE

  Bait

  Roy L. Clough, Jr.

  The Closed Door

  Kendall Foster Crossen

  Beep

  James Blish

  WE ARE POLICED

  Of Those Who Came

  George Longdon

  Police Operation

  H. Beam Piper

  Pax Galactica

  Ralph Williams

  GALACTIC AGENTS

  Tough Old Man

  L. Ron Hubbard

  Agent of Vega

  James H. Schmitz

  The Sub-Standard Sardines

  Jack Vance

  About the Editor

  FOREWORD

  Since criminals and the police have in the past both drawn upon science for aid in their unremitting war, this established pattern will, without a doubt, continue into the future. Space pirates will devise methods for looting rocket ships on course between planets, patrolmen new means for tracing the bandits. And the sky will provide no limit to either.

  So we can visualize in days to come “modern” police procedures which will keep abreast of the times to prove to the solar system and beyond that crime never pays. Or we can shiver a little at the thought that there might even be now strange agents hidden among us, tracing down their own wrongdoers, both entirely alien to our world or time.

  And what of the future yet more remote—of law enforcement officers who patrol sets of solar systems in a galaxy-wide net of law and order? Will it be the same old crimes which set them to labor, or wholly new forms of wrongdoing? It is anyone’s guess. Only it is a certain bet that the police shall continue to serve the public good—in one form or another.

  ANDRE NORTON

  We Police Ourselves:

  Future Tense

  1. Police Chief O’Neil Davis, who worried about “the problems imposed upon law enforcement agencies by extra-terrestrial life forms discovers anew that the solution of an apparently insolvable case may lie in plain sight waiting to be used. That was certainly so in the matter of the invisible bandit.

  ROY L. CLOUGH, JR.

  Bait

  POLICE CHIEF O’NEIL DAVIS watched the great metal bubble of the Moon shuttle carrier float down into its cradle. He squinted his eyes a scant fraction of a second before the dissipators flashed and sighed audibly.

  Security Commissioner Morley eyed the dissipator ring. Some of the coils were still glowing dull red as the last trickles of kinetic energy converted into light and heat. His unlit cigar rotated slowly in his mouth. “I wonder,” he said, “just what kind of a load we get this time.”

  Chief Davis shrugged, “The old order changeth.” He diddled the point of a pencil against the corner of his desk blotter. “Someday I shall write me a book on the problems imposed upon law enforcement agencies by extraterrestrial life forms.” He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and took out a flimsy. “We got the windup on that Martian watch deal.”

  “Oh?”

  “Only twelve thousand were smuggled in. Half of them were located before sale. Most of the rest have been recovered and restitution made. Diplomatic apologies of course—for whatever they are worth.”

  “What I can’t understand is how they were able to make such a good quality timepiece so cheaply.”

  “They couldn’t. We know, unofficially of course, what the real deal was—a production surplus. One of the Geeks slipped up somewhere and didn’t shut the robot machines off after the order had been filled. That le
ft them with twelve-thousand-odd watches, the raw materials for which had to be accounted for. So they get the bright idea of smuggling them to Earth and selling them on the side at a price that’ll cover the raw materials in them and the cost of getting them here. This way they figure to break even and write off the surplus.”

  “And a lot of suckers think they’re buying fifty-dollar watches for five dollars.”

  “In a sense, they were.” Chief Davis grinned wryly. “Only the Geeks neglected to tell them about the five extra minutes built into every hour—Martian days being twenty-six Earth-hours long.” Morley said: “You did a good job on that case—but I’m here to discuss another matter with you. No doubt you know what I mean?”

  The grin vanished from Chief Davis’ face and was replaced with a worried frown. “I’m afraid I do.”

  Morley bit down hard on his cigar and reached for the desk lighter. “This thing is becoming very embarrassing to us,” he said between puffs of blue smoke. “There seems to be a chance of interplanetary friction developing over the stand being taken—hints are being cast out by some of the tele-tabloids.”

  “The Elusians are a very sensitive race,” Chief Davis admitted, “and this is just the sort of thing the sensational press likes to keep raking over. I know, it embarrasses me, too; but I can see the news value in a burglar who is so clever he can repeatedly outwit the best mechanical and electronic protective devices.”

  “What’s the latest tally?”

  “Twenty-four ‘jobs,’ the last two within the past week.” Chief Davis hesitated, “And you won’t like this: we haven’t got a single lead on him—except along the lines the newsboys have been hinting at.”

  “Elusian?”

  “Something like that. That is what makes it so tough. Here we have an interesting situation—the perfect burglar, from a criminal point of view, apparently a member of a race that is completely and absolutely psychologically incapable of knowingly committing a dishonest act.”

  “And a touchy and sensitive race at that,” said Morley, “to whom the merest mention of the possibility of dishonesty of one of their race would be a mortal insult.”

  “With the fact remaining that only an Elusian has the, ah, physical peculiarities which would make it possible to nullify the effects of protective equipment.”

  “Well,” said Morley, “what do you think?”

  Chief Davis rubbed the ball of his thumb on his cheek and stared out the window. “To be very frank with you, Commissioner, I’m not thinking, and I’ll tell you why. I’d like to keep my sanity. I’ve been over this thing, every scrap of information that has turned up, or been dug up, I’ve gone over a dozen times.” He looked steadily at Morley, “The truth of the matter is that the facts are mutually exclusive.”

  Morley returned his calm gaze with an effort. “That is quite a statement to make, Chief.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

  “Certainly. I said I wasn’t thinking—of identities. I know it’s your business to worry about the identity of the thief, and the newsboys may consider it their province to speculate about his identity, but to me, it makes little difference.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’ll catch who I’ll catch when I catch him.”

  “Um-m-m. You know, I rather had the idea that modern protective measures had just about eliminated burglary.”

  “That, to some extent, is just the trouble. We’ve had hardly a case of any importance in the past hundred years. Burglary no longer pays. The invention of the body-wave machine licked the burglary problem over night. Add to this the automatic alarms, trip wires, window switches and all—which most places have—and burglary is impossible.”

  “Only it isn’t.”

  “Exactly. Paradoxically, we can prevent crimes of this nature; but we can’t do anything about them after they have been committed. There is a good reason for this. Burglary, as a profession, has been out of circulation for so long that the appurtenances have disappeared. In the old days a burglar was by no means self-sufficient. Stealing the goods was only half the job. Once he had the loot he had to run around looking for a professional receiver of stolen goods. It was at this level and in connection with such disposals that arrests could be made and solutions arrived at.”

  “Meaning, perhaps, that in order to control crime, one needs crime?” Morley looked thoughtful.

  “In a sense, yes. In this case our super-thief needs no auxiliary criminal in order to stay ‘in business.’ He has been taking only money.”

  “But to take the money he must first get by the burglar-proof body-wave field and several other protective devices.”

  Chief Davis nodded. “Of course. That is why I said the facts seem to be mutually exclusive. Fact one: No Terran, or for that matter any humanoid type can penetrate a body-wave field. Fact two: No Elusian can be psychologically capable of crime. Fact three: Fact one and fact two contradict fact number four—”

  “Which is?”

  “That somebody is getting through and taking the money.” Commissioner Morley scratched his head. “Give me this Elusian business again.”

  “One of the first things a professional law man learns is the details of the Ellus-Earth, or as it is more commonly called, the Elusian protective treaty.”

  “Something about their delicate nervous systems, isn’t it?”

  “Delicate is the word for it. The Elusians are a very remarkable race, of great interest to evolutionists. They had a dominant mutation very recently, perhaps only a thousand Earth-years ago. Much of their body and mind structure is crystalline in nature. Because of this they are extremely sensitive to certain types of radiation and fields which a humanoid would be incapable of detecting. The simple body-wave field, for example, which is used as a protective measure, is death or insanity for an Elusian. Several severe injuries happened to the first of them to visit Earth—that being the primary cause for the treaty.”

  “That I understand,” said Morley, “and under the treaty some sort of gadget shuts off protective fields when an Elusian approaches?”

  “That is basically correct. Certain areas, and this includes all major spaceports, are specified as safe for Elusians. That means, all protective devices, of the field-generating type, are fitted with automatic shutoffs, tuned to the body frequency common to Elusians.”

  “Sounds like both an expensive and risky business.”

  “In one sense it is, in another it is not. Elusian products are extremely valuable to us, and vice versa. Too, don’t forget that Elusians are completely honest.”

  “You seem quite certain of that.”

  “I am. It is because of the way their motivation process works. In school I’ve been through the whole thing over and over. It is the way the Elusian brain works and it can’t work to produce a dishonest act. I know it seems fantastic, but it’s true.”

  “I should think this would have been taken advantage of by some mobsters. For instance, what is to prevent them from kidnaping an Elusian and forcing him to go along and spring the locks for them?”

  “The fact that it won’t work that way. It was tried of course. Provision for this exigency was made in the treaty. The devices don’t shut down if the Elusian is in company with anybody else—of another race, that is.”

  “Which, since you say it has been tried, must have been rough on some Elusians.”

  “It was. Also rough on the Terran who tried it. Under the terms of the treaty kidnaping or detaining an Elusian carries the death penalty. Mandatory and no recourse.”

  “You’ve given me quite a bit of background on this,” said Morley, “which helps me to understand it better, but it makes it a bit harder for me to say what I have to. I’m here at the instructions of the rest of the commissioners. Did you know?”

  “I suspected.”

  “I can give it to you straight then. The point is that this ‘Ghost’ burglar business has been making entirely too muc
h stir. We appreciate your difficulties, but that is your line of business. We want the matter cleaned up. We’ve got diplomatic pressure on us, so we’ve got to put pressure on you. It boils down to a question of either, or.”

  “I see.”

  “What shall I tell them?”

  Chief Davis stared out the window, idly watched the line of individuals descending the ramp from the Moon shuttle. He rather liked being chief of police—a good job; good pay; nice social standing. It had its headaches, but it was the one job he knew he fitted best. He thought it all over, then he said:

  “Tell you what, Commissioner. You may let them know I said I’d have the ‘Ghost’ burglar in two weeks or I’ll mail in my resignation.”

  And after Morley had left he sat there staring at the panel which had closed on his back and wondered how he would do it.

  It was a pretty plausible story and the tele-news sheets obligingly printed it without editing. It briefly recounted the long chain of burglaries, told of the great cunning of the thief and of his seeming imperviousness to protective fields. It stated that after a long study of the matter a new and different protective system had been worked out and was now in use in “several places.” Chief of Police O’Neil Davis was credited with the development of the system, and he was quoted as saying that he was certain a foolproof method of dealing with the situation had been worked out.

  As a protective measure it was probably a little short in the ethics department, but as a trap it was a dilly.

  The stout oak table stood in the middle of the cage area behind the cashier’s window. On it was stacked several hundred dollars in one’s, five’s and ten’s. Good usable wrinkled money with dirty edges. Four feet away, clamped to the other end of the table was an ancient riot gun, aimed squarely at the money. The gun had an interesting feature; bolted in place around the trigger mechanism was a black metal box. Obligingly it was fitted with a heavy plate glass cover that exposed a two-way magnetic trip resting against the trigger. From the box a couple of copper wires ran to the pile of money. The wires were neatly stitched through each pile of bills and from there ran to a wall socket power supply.