"Of finding I couldn't make a career of piping." Veta laughed wryly. "First I tried in Porforio, then Idacta, then even Brenskaala, on Callisto. Only there still weren't enough people who wanted to hear me play, so when my money ran out--I didn't have too much to start with; just what I'd inherited when my father was killed in a thermal--why, when it was gone, I took a job in a traveling show, charming gulfers." Ross stared. "Charming gulfers--?" "That's right." Veta laughed. "I don't know what the right name for them is, but they have them on some of the asteroids and they call them engulfers--gulfers for short. They look like worn-out rubber rugs, but if they get the chance they'll wrap themselves round you and digest you alive with their juices." "Go on." Veta shivered. "They're awfully dangerous, really. They kill lots of people in the Belt. But they happen to like vocorn music too; they'll even move in rhythm to it. So in this show, I played my pipe to charm them." "It sounds fascinating," Ross observed dryly. "Believe me, it wasn't." The girl shivered again. "But it was the best I could do till I met Mr. Mawson." "How did that happen?" "The show went broke on Japetus. As adjudicator, Mr. Mawson checked on it. He liked me, and the next thing I knew, he was giving me little jobs to do. Then they got bigger, till finally he even sent me along on this trip with Cheng to pick you up." "I see," Ross nodded slowly. "He trusts you a lot, apparently." "Yes, of course." Veta nodded also. But a nervousness suddenly seemed to have seized her. Shifting, she fingered her pipe, eyes dodging Ross'. For an instant he studied her; then rose, crossed the cabin, and once more checked the visiscreen. "It won't be too long now. We're beginning to move into shadow." Veta's head came up. "And then--you're going down there, to Japetus, and ... try to do something to Mr. Mawson--?" "I'm going down, anyhow." "But why?" Now Veta, too, rose from her seat. Half-hesitantly, she came to him. "Wouldn't it maybe be better if you just--well, forgot about it?" * * * * * Ross' face darkened. "That kind of thing takes a lot of forgetting. When somebody forces my carrier off course, so that I crash on Venus, and then tries to blast me--" He broke off, thin-lipped. "But still--" Ross turned on the girl. "What do you care about it, whether I do or whether I don't? Are you afraid Mawson might get hurt?" His companion's face flamed. She started to turn away. But before she could move, Ross caught her by the shoulders. His fingers gouged into the soft flesh. "Don't try that! I'm not in the mood for it, and I've heard better stories than the one you've been telling. To listen to you talk, you're not even too bright. "Only I don't believe that--not for a minute, because Pike Mawson's not the kind of man to send a giggling girl out to take care of his business. So throw out the act: you've got brains and judgment; admit it!"