Star Hunter, by Andre Alice Norton 
 
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Title: Star Hunter 
Author: Andre Alice Norton 
Release Date: August 21, 2006 [EBook #19090] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STAR HUNTER *** 
 
Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online Distributed Proofreading 
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Transcriber's Note: 
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication 
was renewed. 
 
[Illustration] 
STAR HUNTER 
ANDRE NORTON 
 
ACE BOOKS, INC. 
1120 Avenue of the Americas
New York, N.Y. 10036 
 
Copyright, 1961, by Ace Books, Inc. 
* * * * * 
 
STAR HUNTER 
I 
Nahuatl's larger moon pursued the smaller, greenish globe of its companion across a 
cloudless sky in which the stars made a speckled pattern like the scales of a huge serpent 
coiled around a black bowl. Ras Hume paused at the border of scented spike-flowers on 
the top terrace of the Pleasure House to wonder why he thought of serpents. He 
understood. Mankind's age-old hatred, brought from his native planet to the distant stars, 
was evil symbolized by a coil in a twisted, belly-path across the ground. And on Nahuatl, 
as well as a dozen other worlds, Wass was the serpent. 
A night wind was rising, stirring the exotic, half-dozen other worlds' foliage planted 
cunningly on the terrace to simulate the mystery of an off-world jungle. 
"Hume?" The inquiry seemed to come out of thin air over his head. 
"Hume," he repeated his own name calmly. 
A shaft of light brilliant enough to dazzle the eyes struck through the massed vegetation, 
revealing a path. Hume lingered for a moment, offering a counterstroke of indifference in 
what he had always known would be a test of wits. Wass was Veep of a shadowy empire, 
but that was apart from the world in which Ras Hume moved. 
He strode deliberately down the corridor illuminated between leaf and blossom walls. A 
grotesque lump of crystal leered at him from the heart of a tharsala lilly bed. The intricate 
carving of a devilish nonhuman set of features was a work of alien art. Tendrils of smoke 
curled from the thing's flat nostrils, and Hume sniffed the scent of a narcotic he 
recognized. He smiled. Such measures might soften up the usual civ Wass interviewed 
here. But a star pilot turned out-hunter was immunized against such mind clouding. 
There was a door, the lintel and posts of which had more carving, but this time Terran, 
Hume thought--old, very old. Perhaps rumor was right, Milfors Wass might be truly 
native Terran and not second, third, nor fourth generation star stock as most of those who 
reached Nahuatl were. 
The room beyond that elaborately carved entrance was, in contrast, severe. Rust walls 
were bare of any pattern save an oval disk of cloudy golden shimmer behind the chair at 
the long table of solid ruby rock from Nahuatl's poisonous sister planet of Xipe. Without
a pause he walked to the chair and seated himself without invitation to wait in the empty 
room. 
That clouded oval might be a com device. Hume refused to look at it after his first glance. 
This interview was to be person to person. If Wass did not appear within a reasonable 
length of time he would leave. 
And Hume hoped to any unseen watcher he presented the appearance of a man not 
impressed by stage settings. After all he was now in the seller's space boots, and it was a 
seller's market. 
Ras Hume rested his right hand on the table. Against the polished glow of the stone, the 
substance of it was flesh-tanned brown--a perfect match for his left. And the subtle 
difference between true flesh and false was no hindrance in the use of those fingers or 
their strength. Save that it had pushed him out of command of a cargo-cum-liner and 
hurled him down from the pinnacle of a star pilot. There were bitter brackets about his 
mouth, set there by that hand as deeply as if carved with a knife. 
It had been four years--planet time--since he had lifted the Rigal Rover from the launch 
pad on Sargon Two. He had suspected it might be a tricky voyage with young Tors 
Wazalitz, who was a third owner of the Kogan-Bors-Wazalitz line, and a Gratz chewer. 
But one did not argue with the owners, except when the safety of the ship was concerned. 
The Rigal Rover had made a crash landing at    
    
		
	
	
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