ours, even, without a mask
or equipment--"

The man's eyebrows raised slightly. "How very interesting," he said
flatly. "The fact remains that there aren't any jobs open for you."

The cold, angry flame flared up in Tam's throat suddenly, forcing out
the sense of futility and defeat. "Those other men," he said sharply.
"I was here before them. That girl wouldn't let me in--"

Randall's eyes narrowed amusedly. "What a pity," he said sadly. "And
just think, I hired every one of them--" His face suddenly hardened,
and he sat forward, his eyes glinting coldly. "Get smart, Peters. I
think Marsport Mines can somehow manage without you. You or any other
Sharkie. The men just don't like to work with Sharkies."

Rage swelled up in Tam's chest, bitter futile rage, beating at his
temples and driving away all thought of caution. "Look," he grated,
bending over the desk threateningly. "I know the law of this system.
There's a fair-employment act on the books. It says that men are to be
hired by any company in order of application when they qualify equally
in experience. I can prove my experience--"

Randall stood up, his face twisted contemptuously. "Get out of here,"
he snarled. "You've got nerve, you have, come crawling in here with
your law! Where do you think you are?" His voice grated in the still
air of the office. "We don't hire Sharkies, law or no law, get that?
Now get out of here!"

Tam turned, his ears burning, and strode through the office, blindly,
kicking open the door and almost running to the quiet air of the
street outside. The girl at the desk yawned, and snickered, and went
back to her typing with an unpleasant grin.

Tam walked the street, block after block, seething, futile rage
swelling up and bubbling over, curses rising to his lips, clipped off
with some last vestige of self-control. At last he turned into a small
downtown bar and sank wearily onto a stool near the door. The anger
was wearing down now to a sort of empty, hopeless weariness, dulling
his senses, exaggerating the hunger in his stomach. He had expected
it, he told himself, he had known what the answer would be--but he
knew that he had hoped, against hope, against what he had known to be
the facts; hoped desperately that maybe someone would listen. Oh, he
knew the laws, all right, but he'd had plenty of time to see the
courts in action. Unfair employment was almost impossible to make
stick under any circumstances, but with the courts rigge