or a translation. After all, he
needed the money and if he didn't take it these two deluded characters
would no doubt find someone who would.

"Besides," Nicko said in Terran, "the female's a dream. The legs--the
torso--very nice to be in space with."

"Shut up! This is a business trip! Remember that. Exactly the same as
though we were hauling a couple of fat Terran bankers."

"Sure. But that kitty's got more in the bank than--"

"Get the hell out of here! Go over to the Exchange and see if our new
pile came in on that ship."

* * * * *

Outer Port was a man-made satellite artificially oxygenated and
gravitated. It was the largest of a group assembled during the
experimental period of the late twenty-first century. Later, methods
of shifting asteroids and small planets into desired orbits were
developed and the construction of space globes and platforms was
discontinued.

At that time, the Interplanetary Guild of Space Guides purchased the
satellite and moored it on the perimeter of the System to serve as a
headquarters for their activities. They smashed a bottle of wine on it
and christened it Outer Port after which every guide got drunk by way
of celebration.

It was a bleak establishment. With no solar supplement, it lay in the
eternal twilight of far space, the artificial heat of its surface
rising against eternal cold thus causing a perpetual fogging of its
atmosphere mixture.

So when the _Space Queen_ blasted fifteen hours later, Doree Brandon
brightened perceptibly. Professor Brandon remained in the lounge.
Nicko was aft, watching the tube primers. Doree was with Mike in the
control cabin.

"Getting used to Nicko?" Mike asked.

Doree smiled. "I owe him an apology. He is--" She looked up suddenly.
"He is _he_, isn't he?"

Mike laughed. "Nicko is male. Beyond that point he's hard to
classify."

"That odd face! Those green scales! The four arms were a little
difficult to get used to but now I think he's--well, kind of cute."

"Good for you."

"Where did you ever find him?"

"On Mars. I'll tell you about it sometime. Right now I've got to
finish setting our primary course."

"I imagine you'd like the exact location of the planet as soon as
possible."

"No great hurry. Any time in the next twelve hours will do. Just a
matter of pin-pointing the arc of the basic course. Your father didn't
appear to feel too well when we blasted. How is he now?"

"He's been und