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"Don't we all?" Dinok scowled, a man caught in a trap of his own making. Drink or drugs, or an alliance with the wrong woman at the wrong time. Something had sent him on the downward path which, as yet, hadn't ended. That would come when he grew careless about his appearance, casual as to his duties. Then, he would be kicked out to rot on some lonely world. "Well, Earl, I'll leave you to it. Watch out for the entrepreneur-I don't trust his type."

* * * * *

Ren Dhal was smooth, skilled, deft with the dice and clever with the cards. A man who had established a small business on Tradum, selling out when the opposition grew too strong. Moving on now to seek fresh opportunities.

"They're everywhere," he said as he sat at the table. "But it takes a smart brain to recognize them. On Heiglet, for example, I noticed that three taverns were competing. I arranged a merger, raised the prices and took a nice profit. All it required was some fast talking."

Dumarest dealt the cards, playing without real interest, merely doing a part of his job. As always on any journey, life had settled into a routine. Play and talk passed the time. Work a little more when, the quicktime in his blood neutralized, he attended to what had to be done.

The cabins searched, baggage checked, looking for any signs that the passengers were not exactly what they claimed to be. He had found nothing suspicious.

"Time to eat," he announced, and went to draw the rations of basic. Elementary food, a liquid thick with protein, sickly with glucose, laced with vitamins and essential elements. A cup would provide enough energy for a day.

The trader grunted as he accepted his ration. A dour man who spent long hours studying lists of figures, computing his margins of profit. He rarely spoke and seemed to hold a grievance against the grizzled engineer who had formed an attachment with one of the women, careless as to her past.

"Food." Chi pulled a face. "Is that what you call it? Hilma, we could be making a mistake. On Tradum, at least we had something decent to eat."

"And will again." Hilma glanced at the engineer. He was old, but he had money and was as good as she could hope to get. Smiling she said, "To the future, Gramon, may it be pleasant."

"I'll drink to that." He sipped, beaming. "It'll be good to settle down. I've had enough of traveling and I've breathed in all the rock dust my lungs will take. Say, Chi, I've a friend who might be interested in you. A farmer-you got objections to living on a farm?"

The nearest thing to hell she could imagine, but a man could be changed and, if he owned land, he was worth looking at.

"His own farm?"

"Of course. Warsh and me grew up together. His wife died a decade ago and I figure it's time he got another. Tell you what, I'll fix it up as soon as we land. Have dinner together and talk things over. Agreed?"

They were talking too much, ignoring the table, and Dumarest riffled the cards.

"What'll it be, friends? Starsmash, olkay, nine-nap, spectrum?" They weren't interested, not that it mattered. Dumarest could take Shwarb's disappointment. And, soon now, the journey would be over.

They landed at dawn, when the terminator was bisecting the field, early mist blurring outlines, a thin fog which had not yet burned away. Dumarest stood at the head of the ramp as was expected. Dinok had been right, there were no tips.

"With a bunch like that you're lucky to get a smile," scowled Arishall. "How did you make out at the table?"

"Poor."

"Bad news for the captain." Arishall shrugged. "Well, he can't grumble. In this game you have to take it as it comes. Earl, I need your help."

Dumarest glanced at the field, the mist. It was a good time to leave.

"It won't take long," said the engineer. "A dump-job down in the hold. Some poor devil didn't make it."

He looked very small as he lay in the casket designed for the transportation of beasts, but in which men could ride, doped, frozen and ninety-percent dead. Riding Low, risking the fifteen-percent death rate for the sake of cheap travel. A gamble which he had taken once too often.

"A kid," said Arishall. "I didn't want to take him, but Shwarb insisted."

Dumarest made no comment, looking at the ceiling where someone with a touch of imagination had painted a smiling face. A woman's face with liquid eyes and a softly inviting mouth, hair which was wreathed in a mass of golden curls over a smooth brow. Her throat accentuated the slope of the shoulders, the upper curves of barely portrayed breasts which vanished into a depicted cloud, a mass of vapor which framed the portrait with a milky fleece. The last thing Leon Harvey had seen.

"A kid," said Arishall again. "I guessed he wouldn't make it. He was too thin, too puny. He should have waited, fattened himself up-well, to hell with it. It's all a part of the job."

"Something wrong?" Dinok entered the hold and frowned as he looked at the dead boy. "Hell, I know him."

"From where?" Dumarest was sharp. "Nerth?"

"Nerth? No, Shajok. It was his first trip."

"Are you sure about that?"

Dinok shrugged. "I'd gamble on it, Earl. You know how it is with first-timers. No matter how they try to cover it up, it shows. The kid was green. He didn't know enough to argue about the price when Shwarb cheated him. He was in a sweat, eager to get away. Knowing Shajok, I can't blame him."

"Arishall?"

"I remember Shajok, but not the boy," said the engineer. "Urian handled it. I was busy getting a replacement part for the engine. They had him sealed by the time I got back."

"And when he left?"

"Arishall wouldn't remember that, Earl," said the navigator dryly. "He'd taken a little too much of his medicine. We first dropped the boy on Aestellia and he must have moved on to Tradum. I guess he recognized the Golquin and felt at home. Now he's dead. A pity, but that's the way it goes." He stooped, felt under the casket, rose holding the cheap fabric bag Leon had carried in his hand. "Let's see if he left anything worth having."