War-Gods of the Void By HENRY KUTTNER Jerry Vanning trailed the fugitive Callahan into the swampy wastes of Venus, Hell-Kingdom of the fabled War-Gods. He reached his goal--walking with the robot-strides of a North-fever slave. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Fall 42. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] I Earth Consul, Goodenow, tossed a packet of microfilms to Vanning, and said, "You're crazy. The man you're after isn't here. Only damn fools ever come to Venus--and don't ask me why I'm here. You're crazy to think you'll find a fugitive hiding on this planet." Jerry Vanning, earth state investigator, moved his stocky body uneasily. He had a headache. He had had it ever since the precarious landing through the tremendous wind-maelstroms of the pea-soup Venusian atmosphere. With an effort he focused his vision on the micro-projector Goodenow handed him, and turned the tiny key. Inside the box, a face sprang into view. He sighed and slid another of the passport-films into place. He had never seen the man before. "Routine check-up," he said patiently. "I got a tip Callahan was heading here, and we can't afford to take chances." The consul mopped his sweating, beefy face and cursed Venusian air-conditioning units. "Who is this guy Callahan, anyway?" he asked. "I've heard a little--but we don't get much news on the frontier." "Political refugee," Vanning said, busy with the projector. "Potentially, one of the most dangerous men in the System. Callahan started his career as a diplomat, but there wasn't enough excitement for him." The consul fumbled with a cigar. "Can you tell me any more?" "Well--Callahan got hold of a certain secret treaty that must be destroyed. If he shows it in the right places, he might start a revolution, particularly on Callisto. My idea is that he's hiding out till the excitement dies down--and then he'll head for Callisto." Goodenow pursed his lips. "I see. But you won't find him here." Vanning jerked his thumb toward a window. "The jungle--" "Hell, no!" the consul said decidedly. "Venus, Mr. Vanning, is _not_ Earth. We've got about two hundred settlements scattered here and there; the rest is swamp and mountains. When a man gets lost, we wait a few days and then write out a death certificate. Because once an Earthman leaves a settlement, his number's up." "So?" "So Callahan isn't here. Nobody comes here," Goodenow said bitterly. "Settlers do," Vanning remarked.