Brooks grinned and amid cheers walked to the table. Coxine handed him a small stack of notes carelessly and turned back to the ledger.
"Gil Attardi!" he roared. "One thousand credits for working on the boarding crew."
Attardi, a sly, scar-faced man, stepped forward to accept his share. He carried a long, thin knife with an edge so deadly keen that he could and often did shave with it.
Coxine continued his roll call. "Sam Bates! Five hundred credits. Straight share."
Bates stepped forward and glared at Coxine.
"How come I only get five hundred and the others get a thousand?" he snarled. "It ain't my fault I'm stuck on the power deck while you grab all the glory jobs!"
The laughing, excited crowd of men grew silent as the rebellious spaceman faced Coxine.
"You get five hundred credits," snarled Coxine. "Take it or leave it!"
"I want the same as Brooks and Attardi," demanded Bates.
Quicker than the eye could follow, Coxine rose and smashed the man in the face with a giant fist. Bates dropped to the deck like a stone. Coxine glared at the rest of the crew.