The money-glow faded gradually from her eyes as she focused on me. She took her time deciding; but from the way she snuggled up to Konnel to whisper in his ear, it looked as if she might really be stuck on him. He winked at me. Such a gasp went up as we changed places that I thought my cuff must have brushed Pluto, but it was just Meadows making a long-odds hop from Earth to Uranus. The operator no longer even flinched before punching the distances and bet on his little computer, and groping in his cash drawer to pay off. * * * * * I stood there a few minutes, wondering if the game could be fixed after all. Still, the man who invented it also made encoding machines for the Earth space fleet. Meadows must be having a run of blind luck--no time to interrupt. On my way out, Howlet caught me at the door of the bar. "How about some coffee?" he asked. "We'll have to start back soon. You'll be surprised at the time. Dining room still open?" "Always. Okay, let's sober up and watch the fountain." Only two or three women and a dozen men sat in the restaurant now. The part-time musicians had disappeared for a few hours of sleep before their usual jobs. We ordered a thermos pot of coffee and Howlet asked me about McNaughton. "I guess it was on the level," he said when I described the man's Committee position. "He got a boost out of how they had to patch up some troublemaker he knew, after that bar fight we had. Wanted to make me chief cop here." "Some domes have regular police forces already," I confirmed. "So he said. Claimed a lot of police chiefs have been elected as mayors. Then he said that someday there will be a Martian Assembly, and men with a start in dome politics will be ready for it, and so on." "He's exactly right," I admitted. "When do you figure to start?" "Maybe the next time I pass through." He winked. "If it's still open." I relaxed and grinned at him. Somehow, I liked his looks just then. "You shouldn't be gone too long. It's a good spot to put your ladder down." He helped himself to more coffee and stared into his cup. I knew--the watches near the end of a hop when you wondered about the dead, oily air, when the ones off watch kept watching the astrogator's expression, when you got the idea it was time to come in out of the dark before you made that one slip. _How many pick their landing?_ I thought. _How many never know how close they come to making their mistake, or being a statistic in somebody else's?_ "Why the double trance?" asked Meadows. He brought with him a vague memory of departing chatter and tramping feet in the background. Howlet shoved out a chair for him. "Everything okay?" asked Jorgensen, bustling up. "Buy anyone a drink?" "What have they got there ... coffee?" asked Meadows, sniffing. "Jimmy!" yelled Jorgensen to a waiter. "Pot of coffee for Ron! Hot!" He slapped Meadows' shoulder and took his glowing red face away. "What makes him your buddy?" I asked Meadows.