"You can wait in the airlock. I'll radio Mars City."
"I'm hungry," he said, "and thirsty."
That was an appeal that could not be ignored.
"I'll let you in," she said after a moment's hesitation. "But I have a gun."
"I don't," he answered, spreading his hands and turning so she could see all around his belt.
The inner airlock door opened, and Shaan entered the dome. The smell of the air brought memories of his boyhood on Earth.
The girl stood away from him, holding the heat-gun on him steadily. She had brown eyes and red-gold hair that tumbled to her shoulders. Shaan judged her to be about seventeen years old.
Shaan smiled at her through his blond beard, and she lowered the muzzle of the gun. He could move now, but they probably were being watched from the house. And any minute she might discover the brand on his dirty face.
"Where's your father?" he asked. "Or your husband?"
"Where are your oxygen tanks?" she countered, the gun coming up again.