QUEST ON IO By ROBERT MOORE WILLIAMS Radium-seeking Andy Horn and his talking honey-bear believed they were alone on Jupiter's bleak satellite. Then out of nowhere dropped the space-girl trailing a fateful comet of piracy and death. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 1940. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "Os--car" Assistant Navigator Andy Horn cocked an attentive ear and listened for an answer, but only the soft eternal moan of Io's restless winds came to his straining ears. "Dern that perfidious imp of Satan to hell and gone and back again," he muttered, stretching his red neck out like a turkey gobbler and squawking again. "Os--car.... Dern your flea-bitten hide. You better turn up." Gravel grated on a rock ledge not five feet above him and a Ganymedian honey bear stepped daintily into view. It was about the size of a fox, had sleek, heavy brown wool interspersed with longer black hairs, and a round, intelligent face. It sat down on the ledge and eyed him as guilelessly as if it hadn't heard him calling all the time. "Hi, Bub," it said. Andy reached decisively for a rock. "Dern you, Oscar, I've told you not to call me Bub." He let go with the rock, but Oscar had slipped blithely to cover. Andy grabbed another rock and waited and pretty soon the round face peeked over the ledge at him. It eyed the stone he had in his hand and was very contrite. "Aw, Boss, put down that rock. I was only foolin'." Andy maintained his belligerent attitude. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Horn." "That's better," Andy answered. "I didn't raise you on a bottle from the time you were three weeks old to have you sass me when you're grown up. Show some respect. Come on down from up there. We're going to eat." Andy had brought food with him from Ganymede, for Io produced nothing that human beings liked, except mineral wealth, and he was prospecting for that, taking advantage of the two months' forced vacation while the _Golden Stag_ was being repaired. A stern jet had jammed when she was landing, and she had sat down heavily on her tail, shearing off her stern rocket tubes and knocking a hole in her hull. In two months, if fate was kind, he might possibly locate a claim that would provide him with enough money to purchase the dream of his life, a neat private space yacht lying at the docks on Luna where her millionaire owner had left her after a narrow escape from a meteor had convinced him that space travel was not for amateurs. The ship could be bought for a hundred thousand, which was a give-away, and Andy had come to Io prospecting, for with the ship he could earn a comfortable living prospecting around the world. He had brought his honey-bear along for company.