ENTER THE NEBULA By CARL JACOBI The greatest cracksman in the Galaxy--The Nebula ... mocked by a gay voice that called herself Andromeda, who led him into danger--and into the hands of his enemy! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1946. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Phil Hanley came out of the managing editor's office and strode savagely to his desk in the paper littered city room. It was one P.M., between editions, and the reporters and copy-desk men of the _Martian Globe_ were taking things easy for the moment. Hanley slumped into his chair, kicked his feet up on his auto-typewriter, and mouthed an oath. "He can't do it," he growled. "Who the hell does he think I am anyway? I'll quit, that's what I'll do." "Not again," taunted McFee, a rewrite man. "Yes, again," snarled Hanley. "And this time I mean it. Do you know what that lopsided jackass wants me to do? Get a personal interview with the Nebula. For all _I_ know, the Nebula might be a four dimensional robot." McFee lit a cigarette and leaned against the desk. "Did the old man really hand you that for an assignment?" Hanley nodded, his anger passing now into glumness. "It's a compliment, I suppose," he said, "for anyone to think I might have even a chance." His eyes turned from the room and stared unseeing through the window into the metropolitan area of Crater City. "The Nebula," he said slowly. "Every dick and I.P. man in the System has been tearing his hair, trying to get a lead on who or what he is. The Nebula! The greatest cracksman of all time!" McFee exhaled a lungful of smoke. "He's quite a guy, isn't he?" Deliberately Hanley dropped his feet to the floor and sat erect. "Listen," he said, "he's the Robin Hood of the day, if you can possibly remember your ancient history. Two years ago he swiped the electrolic jewels from the atomic motors of the _Fortuna_, the gambling space ship, broke them into two hundred parts and gave them to the Society for Orphaned Children. A year ago he entered the inner rooms of the Venus Gallery and made off with the _Cosmic Lady_, the greatest painting of the age. "The man's a wizard. No vault door, no lock mechanism keeps him out. He walks in, takes what he wants, and leaves before the I.P. men know what's happened. All they find is that little pastel-blue card with the cluster of white dots in the shape of the Constellation Orion. That's what gave him the name of the Nebula, you see." McFee nodded. "I know," he said, "but who is he? And what's his permanent address?" For a moment Hanley said nothing. He reached in his pocket, drew out a bulldog pipe and a worn tobacco pouch. A glitter was slowly entering his eyes. "You know," he said, "I have half a mind to try and find out at that."