n't drink, but kept the words back. He
was on Earth, now, not aboard the _Valhalla_; he wasn't required to keep
ship's regs. And he didn't want to be trying to look superior. "Okay.
How about Scotch--is that the stuff MacIntosh was drinking?"

"Fair enough," Hawkes said.

He signalled for a robot waiter, and after a moment the robot slithered
up to them. Hawkes punched a lever on the robot's stomach and the metal
creature began to click and glow. An instant later a panel in its
stomach slid open and two glasses appeared within. The robot's wiry
tentacles reached in, took out the drinks, and set them on the table.
Hawkes dropped a coin in a slot in the robot's side, and the machine
bustled away, its service completed.

"There you are," Hawkes said, pointing to the glass of amber-colored
liquid. "Drink up." As if to set an example he lifted his own drink and
tossed it down in one gulp, with obvious pleasure.

Alan picked up the little glass and held it before his eyes, staring at
the man opposite him through its translucent depths. Hawkes appeared
oddly distorted when viewed through the glass.

He grinned. He tried to propose a toast, but couldn't think of any
appropriate words, so he simply upended the glass and drained its
contents. The stuff seemed to burn its way down his throat and explode
in his stomach; the explosion rose through his gullet and into his
brain. For a moment he felt as if the top of his head had been blown
off. His eyes watered.

"Pretty potent stuff!"

"It's the best there is," Hawkes said. "Those boys really know the
formulas."

Alan felt a wave of dizziness, but it passed quickly; all that was left
was a pleasant inner warmth, now. He pulled his tray toward him and
attacked the synthetic meat and vegetables.

He ate quietly, making no attempt at conversation. Soft music bubbled up
around them. He thought about his brother. So Steve was a gambler! And
doing poorly at it, Hawkes said. He wondered if Steve would want to go
back on the ship. He wondered also how it would be if Steve did agree to
go back.

The old comradeship would be gone, he realized sadly. They had shared
everything for seventeen years, grown up together, played together,
worked together. Up till six weeks ago they had been so close that Alan
could almost read Steve's mind, and Steve Alan's. They made a good team.

But that was finished, now. Steve would be a stranger to him aboard the
_Valhalla_--an older, perhaps wis