He was tall, this quiet man, his great height accented by a fit leanness, a narrowness of waist and hip, a length of leg and arm. His main article of clothing was the universal shorts of the Xecho settler. But, being fashioned of saffron yellow, they were the more brilliant because of his darkness of skin. For he was not the warm brown of the Terran Negroes Dane had served beside, though he shared their general features. His flesh was really black, black with an almost bluish sheen. Instead of shirt or tunic, his deep chest was crossed by two wide straps, the big medallion marking their intersection giving forth flashes of gem fire when he breathed. He wore at his belt not the standard stun gun of a spaceman, but a weapon which resembled the more deadly Patrol blaster, as well as a long knife housed in a jeweled and fringed sheath. To the eye he was an example of barbaric force tamed and trimmed to civilized efficiency. He saluted, palm out, and spoke Galactic Basic with only a suggestion of accent. "I am Kort Asaki. I believe Captain Jellico expects me." "Yes, sir!" Dane snapped to attention. So this was the Chief Ranger from fabulous Khatka, Xecho's sister planet. The other ascended the cat ladder easily, missing no detail of the ship's interior as he passed. His expression was still one of polite interest as his guide rapped on the panel door of Jellico's cabin. And a horrible screech from Queex, the captain's pet hoobat, drowned out any immediate answer. Then followed that automatic thump on the floor of the blue-feathered, crab-parrot-toad's cage, announcing that its master was in residence. Since the captain's cordial welcome extended only to his guest, Dane regretfully descended to the mess cabin to make unskilled preparations for supper--though there was not much you could do to foul up concentrates in an automatic cooker. "Company?" Tau sat beyond the cooking unit nursing a mug of Terran coffee. "And do you _have_ to serve music with the meals, especially that particular selection?" Dane flushed, stopped whistling in mid-note. "Terra Bound" _was_ old and pretty well worn out; he didn't know why he always unconsciously sounded off with that. "A Chief Ranger from Khatka just came on board," he reported, carefully offhand, as he busied himself reading labels. He knew better than to serve fish or any of its derivatives in disguise again. "Khatka!" Tau sat up straighter. "Now there's a planet worth visiting." "Not on a Free Trader's pay," commented Dane. "You can always hope to make a big strike, boy. But what I wouldn't give to lift ship for there!" "Why? You're no hunter. How come you want to heat jets for that port?" "Oh, I don't care about the game preserves, though they're worth seeing, too. It's the people themselves--" "But they're Terran settlers, or at least from Terran stock, aren't they?"