Moore introduced him to his duties in the hours that followed, and later joined him in their tiny cabin. "You'll have to take the upper bunk as soon as you feel better," Moore warned. "I got seniority, you know." "Maybe I won't be around long. How do you go about skipping ship at delivery point?" "It can be done if you've got the money," Moore said. "They run these boats to make money and they aren't particular about where the money comes from. They never are sure what sort of a price they can get for the refrigeration equipment and dehumidifiers and stuff." "Refrigeration--dehumidifiers?" Greg stared at Moore. "Are they crazy? Mars is the last place in the world to dispose of stuff like that!" "Mars? Who said anything about Mars, bud?" Moore looked at him curiously. "They need that stuff on Venus, because it gets hot and damp there in the summer time. We're going to Venus, my friend!" The words stunned Greg's mind. "But my wife and kids were sent to Mars, and if I'm heading for Venus it'll be too late--" "But you ought to have known that these birds only go to Venus--" Moore began. Greg didn't give him a chance to finish, rising abruptly and running from the cabin. All the fear, worry and despair that he had felt since Dora's check day transmuted magically into an alloy of anger and hatred against any authority. He searched for the officers' quarters, his feet stamping loudly against the metal flooring, the noise thrusting new aches into his head, the aches in his head increasing his fury. Hopelessly lost after a moment, he opened one door and caught a glimpse of inferno and the insulation-clad men who tended the propulsion units. Twice he blundered into the space between the outer and inner hulls on the wrong side of the ship. One panel in the wall that looked like a door proved to be the lid for a viewer that gave a fantastically beautiful image of the stars and planets outside the ship. He had wandered into a storeroom when a voice came from behind him: "Getting thirsty again?" "Where's the captain?" Greg yelled back. The man who had called to him straightened from behind a row of boxes. "Last time I saw you, you were more interested in drinks than in the captain." * * * * * Greg looked hard at muscular fingers, and the ghost image of a bar back on Earth materialized for an instant in the stockroom around the man. It was the doctor who had given him instructions on how to find the freighter recruiting office! "So you're the one who had me shanghaied to Venus!" Greg sprang at the man, fists flying. The doctor ducked. Greg sprawled clumsily at the opposite wall, thrown off balance by the slighter gravity maintained in the ship. He started to rise, then dropped to his knees as knife-like pain shot through his ankle. The doctor stood over him with that strange half-smile.