hink it was the type of place you could order anything milder,
so he walked up to the bar and ordered loudly, "A bucket of juice."

Some of the men at the bar turned away from the stereo screen to look at
the newcomer. They eyed the crisp, clean uniform narrowly, and then
turned silently back to the play on the screen.

The husky bartender placed the small glass of dark liquid in front of
Tom. "Twenty credits," he announced in a hoarse voice.

"Twenty!" exclaimed Tom. "Don't give me that rocket wash! It's five
credits a shot."

"To a Space Cadet that wants to keep his reputation, Corbett," replied
the burly man, "it's twenty."

Tom realized that the man had seen his picture on the stereo news that
afternoon and that it would be impossible to get out of paying this
blatant form of blackmail. He handed over the money and picked up the
glass. He sipped it to keep up appearances but even the few drops he
allowed to trickle down his throat almost made him gag. He gasped for
breath. Whatever information he might be able to get here, it wasn't
worth another swallow of that stuff.

He stood at the bar for nearly half an hour, watching the stereo and
waiting. When the show was over, the men turned back to the serious
business of drinking. Two of them drifted over close to Tom and looked
him up and down. After a whispered conversation, they turned to him and
pointed to his drink, the same one he had bought and had not touched
since.

"Drink up, mate," said the nearest man, a tall, heavy-shouldered man
with a dark beard, "then join us in another one."

"No, thanks," said Tom. "One's my limit."

The two men laughed. "Well, I'll say this for you, lad, you're honest
about it," said the tall one. "Most squirts coming in here try to put on
they can take the stuff and then they wind up in the gutter."

"That's right, Cag!" said the other man, laughing.

"What are you doing in here, Cadet?" asked the man called Cag.

"Looking for a guy."

"What's his name? Maybe we know him."

"Yeah, we might," chimed in the other. "We know just about everybody
that comes in here."

"Maybe he don't want to tell us, Monty," said Cag.

"I don't know his name," said Tom. "I just met him today and he
mentioned this place. I wanted to talk to him about something."

"Where did you see him?"

Tom paused. It was only a chance remark that the driver of the jet truck
had made and it was a slim chance that these two men might know him. He
dec