hroat and making him tremble--

"Hey, Sharkie. Come here."

Tam turned and walked slowly over to the customs official who held his
papers. "Everything's in order," he said, half defiantly, looking up
at the officer's impassive face. "There isn't any mistake."

"What were you doing in the Rings, Sharkie?" The officer's voice was
sharp.

"Indenture. Working off my fare back home."

The officer peered into Tam's face, incredulously. "And you come back
here?" He shook his head and turned to the other officer. "I knew
these Sharkies were dumb, but I didn't think they were that dumb." He
turned back to Tam, his eyes suspicious. "What do you think you're
going to do now?"

Tam shrugged, uneasily. "Get a job," he said. "A man's got to eat."

The officers exchanged glances. "How long you been on the Rings?"

"Eight years." Tam looked up at him, anxiously. "Can I have my papers
now?"

A cruel grin played over the officer's lips. "Sure," he said, handing
back the packet of papers. "Happy job-hunting," he added sardonically.
"But remember--the ship's going back to the Rings in a week. You can
always sign yourself over for fare--"

"I know," said Tam, turning away sharply. "I know all about how that
works." He tucked the papers carefully into a tattered breast pocket,
hefted the bag wearily, and began trudging slowly across the cold
concrete of the Port toward the street and the Underground. A wave of
loneliness, almost overpowering in intensity, swept over him, a
feeling of emptiness, bleak and hopeless. A chilly night wind swept
through his unkempt blond hair as the automatics let him out into the
street, and he saw the large dirty "New Denver Underground" sign with
the arrow at the far side of the road. Off to the right, several miles
across the high mountain plateau, the great capitol city loomed up,
shining like a thousand twinkling stars in the clear cold air. Tam
jingled his last few coins listlessly, and started for the downward
ramp. Somewhere, down there, he could find a darkened corner, maybe
even a bench, where the police wouldn't bother him for a couple of
hours. Maybe after a little sleep, he'd find some courage, hidden away
somewhere. Just enough to walk into an office and ask for a job.

That, he reflected wearily as he shuffled into the tunnel, would take
a lot of courage--

* * * * *

The girl at the desk glanced up at him, indifferent, and turned her
eyes back to the