.

Loring and Mason did not appreciate the beauty of the city as they rode
swiftly through the busy streets. Loring, in particular, thought as he
had never thought before. He was busily putting a plot together in his
mind--a plot as dangerous as it was criminal.

[Illustration: _The jet cab raced along the highway to Venusport_]

The jet cab slammed to a stop at a busy intersection of the city. This
was Spaceman's Row, and it dated back to Venusport's first rough and
tough pioneering days.

For two blocks on either side of the street, in building after building,
cafes, pawnshops, cheap restaurants above and below the street level,
supplied the needs of countless shadowy figures who came and went as
silently as ghosts. Spaceman's Row was where suspended spacemen and
space rats, prospectors of the asteroids for uranium and pitchblende,
gathered and found short-lived and rowdy fun. Here, skippers of rocket
ships, bound for destinations in deep space, could find hands willing to
sign on their dirty freighters despite low pay and poor working
conditions. No questions were asked here. Along Spaceman's Row, hard men
played a grim game of survival.

Loring and Mason paid the driver, got out, and walked down the busy
street. Here and there, nuaniam signs began to flick on, their garish
blues, reds, and whites bathing the street in a glow of synthetic light.
It was early evening, but already Spaceman's Row was getting ready for
the coming night.

Presently, Mason left Loring, climbing up a long narrow flight of stairs
leading to a dingy back hall bedroom to pack their few remaining bits of
gear.

Loring walked on amid the noise and laughter that echoed from cheap
restaurants and saloons. Stopping before Cafe Cosmos, he surveyed the
street quickly before entering the wide doors. Many years before, the
Cosmos had been a sedate dining spot, a place where respectable family
parties came to enjoy good food and the gentle breezes of a near-by
lake. Now, with the lake polluted by industry and with the gradual
influx of shiftless spacemen, the Cosmos had been given over to the most
basic, simple need of its new patrons--rocket juice!

The large room that Loring entered still retained some of the features
of its more genteel beginnings, but the huge blaring teleceiver screen
was filled with the pouting face of a popular singer. He advanced to the
bar that occupied one entire wall.

"Rocket juice!" he said, slamming down his fis