Jungle in the Sky by Milton Lesse

He was the famous Brody Carmical, and rumor had it he was worth a million credits for each of the many richly mounted heads.

“So you’re fresh out of school with a degree in Extra-terrestrial zoology,” Carmical grumbled. “Am I supposed to turn cartwheels?”

Steve cleared his throat. “The Placement Service thought you might have a job—”

“I do, I do. That doesn’t mean any young pup who comes along can fill it. Ever been off the Earth, Mr. Stedman?”

“No.”

“Ever been off the North American continent?”

“No.”

“But you want to go galavanting around the Solar System in search of big game. Tell me—do you think they have a Harvard club on every stinking satellite you’ll visit? Do you think you can eat beefsteak and drink martinis in every frontier-world dive? Let me tell you, Mr. Stedman, the answer is no.”