“You don’t understand,” said ArDell, sinking back in his float. “If I could work, I wouldn’t need the alcohol. But I’m walled away from work nowadays. It’s not that way with you. You’ve got your job to do; and you’ve got courage—the real kind. I thought maybe I could . . . well, never mind. Courage wouldn’t be transferable, anyway.”

“Are you going to Harmony?” asked Donal.

“Whither my Prince goes, there go I,” said ArDell, and snorted his laugh again. “You should read my contract, sometime.” He turned back to the bar. “Another whiskey?”

“No,” said Donal, standing up. “If you’ll excuse me—”

“I’ll see you again,” muttered ArDell, keying for another drink. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Yes,” said Donal. “Until then.”

“Until then,” ArDell lifted his newly filled glass from the bar. The chime sounded again overhead, and the voice reminded them that only seventy-odd minutes remained before shift-time. Donal went out.

Half an hour later, after he had gone back to his own room for one more careful rereading and study of Anea’s contract, Donal pressed the button on the door of the stateroom of William, Prince and Chairman of the Board, on Ceta. He waited.

“Yes?” said the voice of William, over his head.

“Donal Graeme, sir,” said Donal. “If you aren’t busy—”

“Oh, of course—Donal. Come in!” The door swung open before him and Donal entered.

William was sitting on a plain float before a small deskboard holding a pile of papers and a tiny portable secretary. A single light glowed directly above him and the deskboard, silvering his gray hair. Donal hesitated, hearing the door click to behind him.

“Find a seat somewhere,” said William, without looking up from his papers. His fingers flickered over the keys of the secretary. “I have some things to do.”

Donal turned about in the gloom outside the pool of light, found an armchair float and sat down in it. William continued for some minutes, scanning through his papers, and making notes on the secretary.

After a while he shoved the remaining papers aside and the deskboard, released, drifted with its burden to over against a farther wall. The single overhead light faded and a general illumination flooded the cabin.

Donal blinked at the sudden light. William smiled.

“And now,” he said, “what’s the nature of your business with me?”

Donal blinked, stared, and blinked again.

“Sir?” he said.