I don't have any further business
together."

"You're wrong, Steve. He sent me into the Earther city deliberately to
find you. He said to me, 'Find Steve and urge him to come back to the
ship.' He's forgiven you completely," Alan lied. "Everyone's anxious to
have you come back on board."

For a moment Steve sat silent, indecisive, frowning deeply. Then he made
up his mind. He shook his head. "No--both of you. Thanks, but I don't
want any. Keep your seven thousand, Hawkes. And you, Alan--go back to
the ship and forget all about me. I don't even deserve a second chance."

"You're wrong!" Alan started to protest, but a second time Hawkes kicked
him hard, and he shut up. He stared curiously at the gambler.

"I guess that about settles it," Hawkes observed. "If the man wants to
stay, we can't force him."

Steve nodded. "I have to stay on Earth. And now I'd better get back to
the games parlor--I can't waste any time, you know. Not with a seven
thousand credit backlog to make up."

"Naturally. But there's time for one more drink, isn't there? On me.
Maybe you don't want my money, but let me buy you a drink."

Steve grinned. "Fair enough."

He started to wave to the bartender, but Hawkes shot out an arm quickly
and blocked off the gesture. "He's an old man and he's tired. I'll go to
the bar and order." And before Steve could protest, Hawkes had slipped
smoothly out of the booth and was on his way forward to the bar.

Alan sat facing his brother. He felt pity. Steve had been through a lot;
the freedom he had longed for aboard ship had had a heavy price. And was
it freedom, to sit in a crowded games parlor on a dirty little planet
and struggle to get out of debt?

There was nothing further he could say to Steve. He had tried, and he
had failed, and Steve would remain on Earth. But it seemed wrong. Steve
_did_ deserve a second chance. He had jumped ship and it had been a
mistake, but there was no reason why he could not return to his old
life, wiser for the experience. Still, if he refused----

Hawkes came back bearing two drinks--another beer for himself and a
whiskey for Steve. He set them out on the table and said, "Well, drink
up. Here's hoping you make Class A and stay there."

"Thanks," Steve said, and drained his drink in a single loud gulp. His
eyes widened; he started to say something, but never got the words out.
He slumped down in his seat and his chin thumped ringingly against the
table.

Alan looked at