every need within reason, including
technical library and one-way radio. A government ship brings supplies
once a year, and they don't include tsith."

Penger paused and peered at Latham, whose face had gone pale beneath
the growth of beard. "Your task would be to chart the thousands of
rogue asteroids that cause havoc in the spacelanes every year. I
understand you once knew ray-screens, co-ordinates and parabolics. You
could brush up."

"It seems ... you know a lot about me!" Latham's voice was frightened.
It didn't want to leave his throat. He was staring at the glittering
blue tsith behind Penger.

Penger motioned to the tall, angular man with the bright eyes. The man
stepped to the bar.

"This is George Elston of Interplanet Commerce. He's been looking for
months for the right man. Frankly, I don't think it's you"--Latham
felt the impact of Penger's scorn--"but he has a cruiser outside, and
he can up gravs within half an hour in case you are interested."

"I'm not--" Latham continued to stare at the glittering blue flagon
just out of reach.

"I thought not. Well, I've made you two offers. I'll buy your Josmian
for credits or tsith!" Penger counted out a thousand credits and
slapped them on the bar. He poured a glass of tsith and placed it down
gently. "Your choice, Latham! A choice of escape!"

* * * * *

A terrible quiet had come over the room. Latham's eyes were
fever-bright, burning deep in his skull. His stomach twisted like a
nest of cold serpents. A choice of escape! There was no choice. There
was only tsith. He had only to take it. Penger was right. He would die
here within a year, but he had resigned himself to that.

He would die out there on the Station, too; he would die a thousand
deaths without tsith. Three years! Latham had heard of a few tsith
hounds who tried it. He knew in every detail the agonies of body and
mind a man went through, before the absence of the stuff either broke
him of the terrible need, or left him a gibbering, mindless wreck. Not
many of them ever pulled through it.

Joel Latham thought of all this and made his choice. He slammed the
Josmian on the bar; his trembling hand seized the glass.

Penger shrugged and sighed as if this was what he expected. He took up
the Josmian. "The deal is closed, Latham! I'd better put this away in
my safe."

He walked to the end of the bar. When he came back, the glass in
Latham's hand was empty.

Peng