A sudden gust sent hail rattling against the windows and Dumarest turned, tense, relaxing as he isolated the cause of the sound. Vardoon grunted from where he stood next in line.

"You've fought, Earl. On Jaldrach?"

"No."

"Other places, then. I can spot a mercenary-a good one responds to the sound of gunfire like a well-trained dog." His eyes roved over the neutral gray plastic of Dumarest's tunic and pants, the high boots, the hilt of the knife riding above the right. A match for his own dull olive, the boots different, the material lacking the polished places on which protective armor had rested. Neater, more recently refurbished, but to his eye an unmistakable uniform.

That of a traveler, a rover, an adventurer among the stars.

Ahead of them a man swore in shocked disbelief.

"This all? Hell, I damned near broke my back for a week and for this?"

"You owed for shelter, clothing, a shot of antibiotics when you skinned your knee. Next!"

A big man, smiling, a sheaf of paper in his hand. Slips given by those he had skinned. The official checked them, paid, looked to the next in line.

A short line-too many had nothing to collect.

Outside, the rafts were loading the men bound for the town. Two lifted as Dumarest watched, rising slowly, veering as their drivers gained altitude, heavy, sluggish craft, designed more for the moving of freight than speed. Neither was canopied and the men crammed into the open bodies huddled together for warmth. Above, the sun had just passed zenith.

"Keep moving there!" the supervisor yelled to those handling the loading. "Get 'em full and get 'em on their way!" He turned, scowling, his face clearing as he saw Dumarest. "Earl! I've been watching out for you. Got a minute?"

Dumarest hesitated, glancing at the loading area. Two rafts remained, both rapidly filling.

"There'll be more," said the supervisor. "Everyone will get transport."

"When?"

"Later today. The first ones were hired to do a double trip. You'll lose nothing by waiting-at least you'll have cover."

The ones expected had canopies, then. A comfort worth the delay.

"Just a word," said the supervisor, "but let's get into the warm."

His office was snug, adorned with maps, prints, geological schematics. A pile of manganese nodules rested on a table with the assay report beside them. A hammer stood in a corner together with a pair of boots caked with dried mud. A parka hung on a nail behind the door. From a cupboard the supervisor took a bottle and two glasses. Pouring, he offered one to Dumarest then lifted his own.

"Health!"

A toast to which Dumarest responded. The spirit was raw and heavy with the odor of smoke, but his system was grateful for the warmth it gave.

"A bad one," mused his host. "The storm, I mean. We got a special report-but I guess you know that."

"I suspected it when I saw the administrators leave."

"Smart." The supervisor refilled both glasses. "I've been watching you, Earl. You and some others. How are you fixed for a stake?"

"I can manage."

"So I imagined--a pity in a way, but if you were like the rest we wouldn't be talking. I'll make it short. If you want I can offer you a winter job."

Dumarest shook his head.

"Now take your time," urged the supervisor. "Think about it. Shelter and food and warmth until the next season. Subsistence, but a smart man could add to it. One who can handle a deck, for example?" His eyes were direct. "You know what I'm talking about?"

"You've money here," said Dumarest. "Machines, stores, housing, tools, equipment and all the rest of it. It's cheaper to hire guards than to move it."

"That's right. Take on the job and you'll be on the cadre next season. Regular pay, no sweat with the hammer, one of the established. An easy number," he urged. "Extra pay for handling a digger. Just run guard during the winter, do your duty, help entertain the others and you'll not regret it." He frowned as again Dumarest shook his head. "No?"

"No." Dumarest finished his drink. "But I thank you for the offer."

"It's a good one," the supervisor insisted. "And yours if you want it."

"For how much?"

"As I said, you're smart." The man smiled and moved thumb against finger in an unmistakable gesture. "Ten percent for me-fair?"

More than fair. The man was entitled to his reward for giving a snug berth and what it entailed. But Dumarest had other plans.

"Thanks for the drinks," he said. "But the answer's still no. Why not try someone who needs the job more than I do? Wiess, for instance."

"A loser." The supervisor shook his head. "You know better than that, Earl. He's broke and desperate. He'll cut corners on the job, try to steal, try to build a stake by cheating at cards. They'll catch him and we'll be a man short. I can't risk the trouble." He shrugged, corking the bottle. "Well, think it over. I like the way you went to work yesterday when most of the others were flapping their gums. Change your mind, let me know, eh?"

It was late when the rafts finally returned. Dumarest moved forward with those waiting, while an overseer snapped his impatience.

"Come on! Come on! Get aboard or get left. You miss this trip and you walk!"

A man said, "Which raft do I take?"

"Any you like-no reservations. Just get on and let's finish the closedown."

The man ran to where a raft was almost full. It lifted as he swung himself into the body, his legs kicking as others hauled him to safety. Wiess, panting, ran past Dumarest and swore as Vardoon barred his passage.

"What the hell? Let me on!"

"Take another one." Vardoon called to Dumarest as the man scuttled away. "Here, Earl! Over here!"

The raft he had chosen was small, canopied, the body fitted with longitudinal benches. The driver sat at his controls in the front, turning as Dumarest climbed aboard. He said, to Vardoon, "That's enough, friend. We've a full load."

The raft could have held more but Dumarest didn't argue. A light load meant greater speed and safety. He sat on one of the benches as the canopy swung into place. Beyond it the other rafts lifted, fanning out as they headed toward the town. One remained, the last aside from themselves. The overseer was talking to the driver and, as Dumarest watched, he shrugged and turned away. A final straggler made his way to it, climbed aboard, sat waiting.

"Up," said Vardoon to the driver. "Let's move!"

He joined Dumarest as the vehicle lifted, the antigrav units in the hull emitting a thin whine-an unusual sound and Dumarest frowned as he heard it. Normally the lift was silent, only the forward propulsion creating a drone from the air. But the wind may have aggravated a structural defect, badly designed units or a faulty repair giving rise to an organ-like resonance.

"Polis," said Vardoon. "I'll be glad to see the back of it. Short seasons, extremes of heat and cold, people living like moles aside from a brief period a couple of times a year." He made a sound as if about to spit. "You can keep it. New to you, Earl?"

"No."

"I guess not. A traveler lands on many strange planets. Me, I like civilized worlds. Societies which can afford to pay for certain pleasures. People who like their comfort and are willing to do something to get it."

Like waging war with hired soldiers. Using profits to buy another's blood. Dumarest stirred, looking down at the ground now far below. An unbroken expanse of whiteness which rippled as if at the touch of a caressing hand. The kiss of wind which stirred it as if it had been a sea. To the north the sky was dark with menace.

"Damned storm." A man sitting opposite scowled at the terrain. "A few more weeks and I'd have saved enough to buy a Low passage. Now I'm stuck for the winter. Come the next season I'll be ready to work for essentials. Damn the luck!"