nto the proffer of a
handshake. "How do you do?" he said quietly. In his mind he
congratulated himself. He had learned emotional control from the
Earthmen. Here was the man who had ordered his father crucified! Yet
he had managed to hide his instant desire to strike, to kill, to carry
out the oath of the blood feud then and there.

Jarvis Spurling ignored Gavir's hand and stared coldly at him. There
was not a trace of the usual Earthman's kindliness in his square,
battered face. "I'm told you got talent. Okay, but a Bluie is a Bluie.
I'll pay you because a Bluie on Dreamvision is good publicity for MDC
products. But one slip like on your first 'cast and you go back to the
Preserve."

"Mr. Spurling!" said Malcomb. "Your tone is hostile!"

"Damn right. That Ethical Conditioning slop doesn't work on me. I've
lived too long on the frontier. And I know Bluies."

* * * * *

"I will sign the contract," said Gavir.

As he drew his signature pictograph on the contract, Sylvie Davery
sauntered in. She held a white tube between her painted lips. The end
of the tube was glowing and giving off clouds of smoke. Hoppy Davery
coughed and Sylvie winked at Gavir. Gavir straightened up, and she
took a long look at his seven feet.

"All finished, Blue Boy? Come on, let's go have a drink at Lucifer
Grotto."

Caution told Gavir to refuse. But before he could speak Spurling
snapped, "Disgusting! An Earth woman and a Bluie! If you were on Mars,
lady, we'd deport you so fast your tail would burn. And God help the
Bluie!"

Sylvie blew a cloud of smoke at Spurling. "You're not on Mars, Jack.
You're back in civilization where we do what we damned well please."

Spurling laughed. "I've heard about you Century-Plussers. You're all
sick."

"You can't claim any monopoly on mental health. Not with that
concentration camp you run on Mars. Coming, Gavir?"

Gavir grinned at Spurling. "The contract, I believe, does not cover my
private life."

Hoppy Davery said, "Sylvie, I don't think this is wise."

Sylvie uttered a short, sharp obscenity, linked arms with Gavir, and
strolled out.

"You screwball Senile Delinquent," Spurling yelled after Sylvie, "you
oughtta be locked up!"

* * * * *

Lucifer Grotto was in that same quarter in which Gavir had been
attacked. Sylvie told him it was _the_ hangout for wealthier New York
Century-Plussers. Gavir told her about the attack, and