Susan didn't remember the shop being there on any of her previous visits to Luna. Somehow, although she had been on Fleet Base as recently as three years ago, she had always missed it. Yet from its antiquated appearance, it had obviously been there for quite some time.

Much to her surprise, the door beneath the sign irised open as she approached. On impulse, she stepped through.

Inside, the light was considerably dimmer than it had been in the corridor, and there was a damp, musty odor in the air, as though a water pipe had burst long ago and had never been discovered. It was silent, almost eerily so; the hectic crowd noises from the corridor had been silenced when the door irised shut behind her.

Three rows of large, metal, five-tiered storage shelves stretched back to the shop's rear, nearly disappearing in the gloom. They stood close together, leaving little room to navigate the aisles between. A clutter of objects of all sizes and shapes filled the shelves nearly to overflowing, and she noted with irritation that none of those objects was identified. There seemed to be absolutely no system to their storage. Something neat and orderly within her cried out against the cluttered confusion.

"Can I help you?" came a voice from behind, soft and papery thin.

Susan jumped, startled. She had heard no approaching foot steps.

Turning, she faced a small man with a fluffy white halo of hair ringing his otherwise bald head. His jumpsuit may have been clean and white at one time, but it was now a dirty gray color, with darker patches of grime at elbows and knees. He was one of those men whose age it is entirely impossible to guess, but he was old-there was an aura of antiquity about him that did not in any way depend on appearance.

"Did I frighten you, my dear?" he asked, and Susan found his voice's softness extremely pleasant, like the touch of velvet on her cheek.

"Yes," she answered, "a little."

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to, you know. It's just that I don't get many customers in here any more."

"Why is that?"

"Perhaps people no longer find the strange interesting-and I do have a shop filled with the strange collected from across the inhabited galaxy." He gestured toward the cluttered shelves with a sweep of his hand. "Perhaps man has lost his sense of wonder." He smiled sadly.

"Yes, perhaps some have."

"Perhaps all have, some."

Susan nodded, noting the distinction.

"But I'm boring you. No, I can tell, I am. Are you looking for something special?"

"Just browsing. I probably won't buy anything."

"That's fine." He smiled again. "If you find you need help, please call."

"I'll do that." Susan returned the old man's smile, and he shuffled off down the aisle, a shuffle of age rather than that of an unseasoned lunar visitor. He turned right in the gloom at the back of the shop and disappeared from view.

Turning her attention to the contents of the shelf before her, just below eye level, Susan identified a few of the objects in the chaotic heap: a small crystal bottle containing a pale green liquid she recognized as wine from the Rigel colony; a blood-stone necklace from Phobos colony; a three-piece Gordian knot puzzle from Beta colony in Sirius system, employing a ninety degree twist into hyperspace. But she had never before seen, nor did she know the function of the great majority of the objects.

A sudden glint of reflected light caught her attention and she reached out, picking up a fine silver chain with a small lump of pitted, dull-gray metal dangling from it. The pendant looked exactly like the one she had seen earlier that morning, the one worn by the dark man who had attacked her in her quarters.

She glanced down the aisle the way the old man had departed, about to call him, but she did not know his name. Then she realized that, in fact, she did know it; it had been painted on the sign outside the shop.

"Eddie," she called softly, expecting to have to call again, louder.

"Yes, ma'am," came an immediate response from behind. Again she jumped at the voice so near, then turned to face him. "Ah," he said, "you have found something."

Susan held the pendent up by its chain between them. "What can you tell me about this?" she asked.

"Very little, I'm afraid." The old man scratched the white stubble on his chin and thought for a few seconds. "Now, let me see," he said, "I bought that so long ago. Thirty-five, or was it forty years back?"

"Anything you might recall."

He reached out, taking the pendant in his long, thin fingers, and Susan involuntarily gripped the chain tighter. Somehow, she could not let him have the pendant for even an instant.

He shook his head. "Like I said, it has been here for quite some time. You wish to buy it?"

"Yes."

"Then it is three-no, four credits."

"So cheap!" She lifted the pendant from the old man's fingers, then slipped her LIN/C from its pouch and handed it to him.

"I'm afraid it's not much of a necklace," he said, taking the card. "Besides, the set is broken."

"A set?"

He nodded. "The fellow who sold it to me had two, identical."

"He kept one?"

"That's right. I tried to talk him out of it-told him I could give him a better price for the set-but he insisted he had to keep one."

"Can you describe him?"

The old man did not speak for a long moment. Finally, he said, "No, I'm afraid I can't remember."

Susan nodded. Perhaps she was expecting too much. After all, for something that had happened so long ago, he had done remarkably well.

He turned, and Susan followed him down the aisle to the back of the shop. There, atop an ancient wooden desk, sat a credit terminal, a green painted metal box about a foot on the side. The old man sat wearily in a chair behind the desk. Without a word, he placed Susan's LIN/C into the slot in the side of the box, then typed slowly on a keyboard built into the desk top, hunting for each symbol as if unaccustomed to using the device. When he had finally finished, a red light blinked on top of the terminal, indicating an electronic transfer of credit from Susan's account to his own.

"There you are," he said, smiling as he removed the card from the machine and handed it back to her. "I hope you will enjoy your purchase."

Again Susan returned his smile. "Thank you for your time and trouble," she said as she placed her LIN/C back in its pouch. She slipped the chain over her head and tucked the pendant into her jumpsuit, out of sight between her breasts. The metal felt cool against her skin.

Turning, she walked back up the aisle, toward the shop's exit. Within a few feet of the door she again heard the old man's soft voice behind her.

"Young lady." Susan turned and gazed down at him. "I just remembered something about that pendant. The man who sold it to me said he found it on a burned-out cinder of a planet circling a star at the very heart of the Crab Nebula. And he…" Eddie paused.

"Yes?" Susan prompted.

"He wore a Base Security uniform."

Again Base Security! "Are you sure?"

The old man nodded. "And he was tall-at least as tall as you."

That was a surprise. "You're sure about that, too?"

"As sure as I can be after all this time."

"Anything else? Anything at all?"

"No, nothing."

"If you do remember anything more, please get in touch with me. I'm Susan Tanner. I can be reached through Admiral James Renford, here on Fleet Base."

"I understand," the old man said, still smiling.

"Thanks for your help." Susan turned back to the door. It irised open, and she stepped through, out into the side corridor.

Tall, she thought as she shuffled toward the junction with the main corridor. That was interesting. She had been expecting him to say that the other man had been short. She had half expected him to describe the belter who had attacked her in her quarters. But that wouldn't have made sense. That belter couldn't have been much older than thirty. He probably hadn't even been born when the old man bought the pendant.