“Good. Because if you’re the Songbird, you ought to be leaving Port étrange pretty soon in search of better pickings.”

“Get to the point,” said Cain.

“I’d like a ride.”

“I don’t take passengers.”

“Let me word that a bit more strongly,” said Terwilliger. “I need a ride. My life depends on it.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long and rather embarrassing story.”

“Give me the gist of it,” said Cain.

Terwilliger stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “When I was in the Spinos system about four months ago, I passed two hundred thousand credits’ worth of bad notes to ManMountain Bates.”

“He’s a gambler, isn’t he?”

“A very large, ill-tempered one,” said Terwilliger devoutly.

“I’d say that was an unwise thing to do.”

“I intended to make them good. I was just indulging in a little deficit spending. Hell, the Democracy does it all the time.” He paused. “But I just got word a few minutes ago that he’s due to land on Port étrange the day after tomorrow—and truth to tell, I’m a little bit short of what I owe him.”

“How short?”

“Oh, not much.”

“How short?” repeated Cain.

“About two hundred thousand credits, give or take a few,” said Terwilliger with a sickly smile.

“I certainly don’t envy you,” commented Cain.

“I don’t want you to envy me,” said Terwilliger with a note of desperation in his voice. “I want you to fly me the hell out of here!”

“I told you: I don’t take passengers.”

“I’ll pay for my fare.”

“I thought you didn’t have any money,” noted Cain.

“I’ll work it off,” said Terwilliger. “I’ll cook, I’ll load cargo, I’ll—”

“The galley’s fully automated, and the only cargo I handle doesn’t need loading so much as killing,” interrupted Cain.

“If you don’t take me, I’ll die!”

“Everybody dies sometime,” replied Cain. “Ask someone else.”

“I already did. Nobody wants ManMountain Bates on their trail. But I figured a man like the Songbird, a man who’s all written up in song and story, you wouldn’t be bothered by a little thing like that.”

“You figured wrong.”

“You really won’t take me?”

“I really won’t take you.”

“My death will be on your hands,” said Terwilliger.

“Why?” asked Cain “I didn’t pass bad notes to any-one.”

Terwilliger scrutinized him for a moment, then forced himself to smile. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? You just want to see me squirm a little first.”

“I’m not kidding.”

“You are!” the little gambler half shouted. “You can’t send me out to face ManMountain Bates! He breaks people’s backs like they were toothpicks!”

“You know,” remarked Cain with some amusement, “you seemed like a totally different man when I met you in the bar.”