hat was beautiful, up there. Inside of two more months I'd
not only lost my three thousand, I was two thousand more in hock. And
that's the way it's been going ever since. I borrow here, win a little
to pay him back, or lose a little and borrow from someone else, win a
little, lose a little--round and round and round. A swell life, Alan.
And I still dream about the _Valhalla_ once or twice a week."

Steve's voice was leaden, dreary. Alan felt a surge of pity. The
swashbuckling, energetic Steve he had known might still be there, inside
this man somewhere, but surrounding him were the scars of nine bitter
years on Earth.

Nine years. It was a tremendous gulf.

Alan caught his breath a moment. "If you had the chance to go back into
the Crew, no strings attached, no recriminations--would you take it?"

For an instant the old brightness returned to Steve's eyes. "Of course I
would! But----"

"But what?"

"I owe seven thousand credits," Steve said. "And it keeps getting worse.
That pot I won today, just before you came over to me, that was the
first take I'd had in three days. Nine years and I'm still a Class C
gambler. We can't all be as good as Hawkes here. I'm lousy--but what
other profession could I go into, on an overcrowded and hostile world
like this one?"

Seven thousand credits, Alan thought. It was a week's earnings for
Hawkes--but Steve would probably be in debt the rest of his life.

"Who do you owe this money to?" Hawkes asked suddenly.

Steve looked at him. "The Bryson syndicate, mostly. And Lorne Hollis.
The Bryson people keep a good eye on me, too. There's a Bryson man
three booths up who follows me around. If they ever saw me going near
the spacefield they'd be pretty sure to cut me off and ask for their
money. You can't welsh on Bryson."

"Suppose it was arranged that your debts be cancelled," Hawkes said
speculatively.

Steve shook his head. "No. I don't want charity. I know you're a Class A
and seven thousand credits comes easy to you, but I couldn't take it.
Skip it. I'm stuck here on Earth for keeps, and I'm resigned to it. I
made my choice, and this is what I got."

"Listen to reason," Alan urged. "Hawkes will take care of the money you
owe. And Dad will be so happy to see you come back to the ship
again----"

"Like Mars he'll be happy! See me come back, beaten up and ragged, a
washed-out old man at twenty-six? No, sir. The Captain blotted me out of
his mind a long time ago, and he and