He advanced to the
bar that occupied one entire wall.
"Rocket juice!" he said, slamming down his fist on the wooden bar.
"Double!" He was served a glass of the harsh bluish liquid, paid his
credits, and downed the drink. Then he turned slowly and glanced around
the half-filled room. Almost immediately he spotted a small wizened man
limping toward him.
"Been waiting for you," said the man.
"Well," demanded Loring, "did'ja get anything set up, Shinny?"
"_Mr._ Shinny!" growled the little man, with surprising vigor. "I'm old
enough to be your father!"
"Awright--awright--_Mr._ Shinny!" sneered Loring. "Did'ja get it?"
The little man shook his head. "Nothing on the market, Billy boy." He
paused and aimed a stream of tobacco juice at a near-by cuspidor.
Loring looked relieved. "Just as well. I've got something else lined up,
anyway."
Shinny's eyes sharpened. "You must have a pretty big strike, Billy boy,
if you're so hot to buy a spaceship!"
"Only want to take a little ride upstairs, _Mr._ Shinny," said Loring.
"Don't hand me that space gas!" snapped Shinny. "A man who's lost his
space papers ain't going to take a chance at getting caught by the Solar
Guard, busting the void with a rocket ship and no papers.
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