She curled her lip. Between Fraon and the city of Jao to the south, the planet had quite a bit of "Paradise." Of the two cities, though, Fraon was the larger; Fraon would be the logical one. That's why she'd chose to try it first. That's where _he_ would come. She left the ship and made her way over to the Guide, a small niche of a place set into the corner of the now darkened Administration building. The Guide was open but it didn't look as though it was doing any business. She went inside. There weren't any customers at all. The only person in the place was a young, greasy looking man, an attendant, who just now was looking bored and fingering a black pencil line mustache. * * * * * The greasy looking man raised his eyes. His finger left off caressing his mustache, and he studied the woman coming toward the desk. H'mm. Nice build. A little on the rough side, like something left out in the atmosphere too long, but all in all not too bad. Beggars can't be choosers. Not on Rain Night they can't. Not way out here on the edge of nothing at eleven in the evening when everybody's gone home, they can't. He pushed the machine of buttons across the desk toward the woman. "Just in off the deserts?" he asked. The woman tossed hair out of her eyes. She gave the greasy man a look. She eyed his mustache. She didn't say anything. The greasy man grinned. Not hard to get, he thought, just a little careful. A little careful till she found out what he had to offer--generally speaking. "Five more minutes before we close," he said, his grin changing to a leer. "You look a little lonely, sister. Me, I'm right there beside you yanking on the same controls. Look, it's Rain Night, sure, and most everything'll be closed in another hour but I know of a place ..." he left the rest unsaid. He raised an eyebrow significantly. The woman didn't say anything. She dropped a teel credit into the slot on the control box, punched a button. Nothing happened. Then the teel came rattling back at her through the reject. She looked up. "Something?" the greasy man said. "Yeah. I punch the button for a room and all that happens is my money coming back." "A room?" He looked incredulous. "On Rain Night? Don't be absurd, sister. All taken days ago. Might try the 'Coptels. They might have a vacancy. But why worry about that? Like I said...." He leaned over the counter, leaned over toward the woman. Leaned right into a heat gun that had appeared like old-time magic in the woman's right hand. "Hey!" "You're the soul of Martian generosity," the woman said evenly. "On you it sprouts ears. I could see that eight lanes up. Open the bank, I need a fistful of credits." "Huh?" "Open the bank." He was getting to believe it. And not liking it. He glared at the woman, then glared down at the heat gun in her hand. He growled indignantly: "Why you lousy space tramp, I oughta...." "Hold it!" Something hard was in the woman's voice.