around, under him; he began
to see it. Desperately he forced his brain on the path it must not
leave. He had forgotten years ago why, but knew there must be some good
reason.

"Iapetus, Iapetus--I have a ranch there--Iapetus, Iapetus--_Where is
Eliot Leithgow?_--Iapetus, Iapetus--I have a ranch there--_Where is
Eliot Leithgow_--I have a ranch there--a ranch there--Iapetus, a
ranch--_Where is Eliot Leithgow?_--_Where is Eliot Leithgow?_--_Where is
Eliot Leithgow?_" ...

After two hours and ten minutes the Hawk crumpled.

He was quite delirious at the time. The combined effect of the pain, the
physical and nervous exhaustion of the shocks and light, the endlessly
repeated question, his own close concentration on his Iapetus
ranch--these were too much for any human body to stand against. He lost
his grip on his mind, lost the fine control that had never been lost
before, the control about which he was so vain. And the lump of flesh
that was Hawk Carse gave the information that was tearing wildly at its
prison.

A stammering voice came from the heart of the color-sphere:

"Port o' Porno, Satellite III--Port o' Porno, Satellite III--Port o'
Porno Sat----"

Dr. Ku Sui interrupted him; leaned forward.

"The house is number----?"

"574--574--574----"

"Ah!" breathed the Eurasian. "Port o' Porno! So near!"

Ku Sui returned the switch and pressed one of the buttons. The pool of
colors faded; the laboratory returned to comparative dimness. The
machine in its center seemed but a great web of wire.

Slumped in the seat within it was a slender figure, his flaxen head
bowed over on his chest, his eyes closed, and sweat still trickling down
his unconscious brow.

And lying on the floor was another unconscious figure.

Friday had fainted.

CHAPTER VI

_Port o' Porno_

The pirate port of Porno is of course dead now, replaced by the clean
lawfulness of Port Midway, but a hundred years ago, in the days before
the patrol-ships came, she roared her bawdy song through the farthest
reaches of the solar system. For crack merchant ships and dingy space
trading tramps alike, she was haven; drink and drugs, women and
diversions unspeakable lured to her space ports the cream and scum,
adventures and riffraff of half a dozen worlds. Sailors and pirates paid
off at her and stayed as long as their wages lasted in the Street of the
Sailors; not a few remained permanently, their bodies flung to the
beasts of the savage ju