"Das Shamra is a wealthy merchant, Pilot Kendall. Wealth has many advantages. Will you come with me?" Suspiciously, Kendall said, "Where to?" "The Hotel Cosmos. Das Shamra is very anxious to see you. He is a very generous man." Kendall had been long taught never to trust a blueskin. But in his present state of mind, he didn't give much of a damn. He was numb with cold, and whoever this Das Shamra was, he was indoors. At the moment that was all that mattered. "Buy me a drink," Kendall told the Martian. "I need a little pick-me-up. Then you can take me to Das Shamra." * * * * * The blueskin and Kendall stopped off at a bar at the corner. The Martian ordered a mug of the insipid Mars beer; Kendall smirked at the brownish-green liquid and said to the barkeep, "Give me a double _valdoz_." "Sure thing, friend." "You're really going in for the strong stuff, aren't you?" the Martian asked, as the drink arrived. "The way I feel, I need it. Besides, why settle for that sludge you call beer when the drinks are on the house?" "A good point," the Martian admitted. "Das Shamra can afford it." He drained his beer, and, as Kendall poured the fiery _valdoz_ down his throat, the blueskin said, "Have another. I'll pay." "No thanks," Kendall said. "_Valdoz_ isn't something you swill like beer. And I'd just as soon face Das Shamra sober, thank you. Let's go." The Martian spun a coin and left it on the counter. They went out into the street again--but with the potent brew within him, Kendall felt much happier about having to face the Martian winds. He was just a little unsteady. The beating had helped, of course, and so had the drink. Normally he wasn't a drinking man; alcohol played hell with the reflexes, and his reflexes were his most valued property. But not any more, he thought dully. Not now, when he'd been kicked out of the Service. The blueskin led him down the twisting byways of Mars City, through heaps of filth and dark alleys. Mars was an old planet, cold and arid; its cities were thousands of years old, its people well skilled in the arts of evil. It wasn't the sort of planet an Earthman liked to stay on for long. Kendall scowled. The way it looked, he'd be here longer than he was counting on. Hell, it would cost fifty dollars just to radio Earth and tell Kathy what had happened. But he couldn't tell her. Not now, when she was about to have the baby. Not when she was so proud of the spaceman she saw only a few weeks out of each year. How could he tell her that he'd flunked the six-month exam? "In here," the Martian said. "Das Shamra's suite is upstairs." The Hotel Cosmos looked to Kendall like one of the better establishments on Mars. But even so, it wasn't very appetizing. Its hallways were dark and narrow: occasionally a groan or a harsh whisper could be heard coming from behind a thick wooden door. He didn't like the place. "This is the floor," the blueskin said.