Eight Million Dollars From Mars!: Crime, Corruption, and Crimson Horizons

Eight Million Dollars From Mars! by Winston Marks - Pauker had killed ten men to get eight million dollars. Now his flight to Mars would insure his safety from justice. Or would it?

His poise was perfect as he crossed the concourse with the highly vaulted ceiling. He moved with purpose but not in haste, his arms swinging freely, eyes straight ahead. At his heels, the squat, robot luggage-carrier dutifully followed the "bone" which he carried in his right hand.

At the long baggage counter, the husky, human attendant took the "bone" and led the carrier under the counter through the low passage onto a platform scale. He whistled. "That'll be $4,175.00 excess baggage," he said.

Pauker nodded curtly and withdrew his billfold. He laid his ticket and the currency on the counter while the attendant clipped paper tags to the handles of his four bags, broke off the stubs at the perforations, shoved the luggage off the cart onto a moving belt and replaced the "bone" in its "homing" slot. The three-wheel robot rolled off the scales, out the short tunnel under the counter and headed back for the entrance.

"We don't see many leather bags here," the man said pleasantly. "They weigh up too much."

Pauker's eyes darted to the man's face nervously as he examined the ticket and made change. Was there suspicion in the young, bland features?

The traveler was well aware of the extravagance of his heavy bags, and he knew that most interplanetary trippers used the lightest, flimsiest containers to remain under the 100-pound limit. At the risk of appearing conspicuous, Pauker had decided on the stronger suit-cases. There must be no chance of an accidental rupture of his luggage. Legitimate people don't haul bundles of $1,000 interplanetary bills around with them—not eight million dollars worth.

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