Alan caught his breath a moment. "If you had the chance to go back into the Crew, no strings attached, no recriminations--would you take it?" For an instant the old brightness returned to Steve's eyes. "Of course I would! But----" "But what?" "I owe seven thousand credits," Steve said. "And it keeps getting worse. That pot I won today, just before you came over to me, that was the first take I'd had in three days. Nine years and I'm still a Class C gambler. We can't all be as good as Hawkes here. I'm lousy--but what other profession could I go into, on an overcrowded and hostile world like this one?" Seven thousand credits, Alan thought. It was a week's earnings for Hawkes--but Steve would probably be in debt the rest of his life. "Who do you owe this money to?" Hawkes asked suddenly. Steve looked at him. "The Bryson syndicate, mostly. And Lorne Hollis. The Bryson people keep a good eye on me, too. There's a Bryson man three booths up who follows me around. If they ever saw me going near the spacefield they'd be pretty sure to cut me off and ask for their money. You can't welsh on Bryson." "Suppose it was arranged that your debts be cancelled," Hawkes said speculatively. Steve shook his head. "No. I don't want charity. I know you're a Class A and seven thousand credits comes easy to you, but I couldn't take it. Skip it. I'm stuck here on Earth for keeps, and I'm resigned to it. I made my choice, and this is what I got." "Listen to reason," Alan urged. "Hawkes will take care of the money you owe. And Dad will be so happy to see you come back to the ship again----" "Like Mars he'll be happy! See me come back, beaten up and ragged, a washed-out old man at twenty-six? No, sir. The Captain blotted me out of his mind a long time ago, and he and I don't have any further business together." "You're wrong, Steve. He sent me into the Earther city deliberately to find you. He said to me, 'Find Steve and urge him to come back to the ship.' He's forgiven you completely," Alan lied. "Everyone's anxious to have you come back on board." For a moment Steve sat silent, indecisive, frowning deeply. Then he made up his mind. He shook his head. "No--both of you. Thanks, but I don't want any. Keep your seven thousand, Hawkes. And you, Alan--go back to the ship and forget all about me. I don't even deserve a second chance." "You're wrong!" Alan started to protest, but a second time Hawkes kicked him hard, and he shut up. He stared curiously at the gambler. "I guess that about settles it," Hawkes observed. "If the man wants to stay, we can't force him." Steve nodded. "I have to stay on Earth. And now I'd better get back to the games parlor--I can't waste any time, you know. Not with a seven thousand credit backlog to make up." "Naturally. But there's time for one more drink, isn't there? On me. Maybe you don't want my money, but let me buy you a drink." Steve grinned. "Fair enough."