“May we use Patrol currency, or would you rather we took chips?” Cloud asked.
“Either one, sir; just as you wish.”
“We Tellurians are all set, then, but Miss Vesta here would like to cash a few Travelers’ Cheques.”
“Certainly, Miss Vesta. I’ll be delighted to take care of it for you. How do you wish the money, please?”
“I’ll want a little small stuff to get the feel of the house . . . say a thousand in tens and twenties. The rest of it in fifties and hundreds, please—mostly hundreds.”
Vesta peeled off and thumb-printed ten two-thousand credit cheques and the host, bowing gracefully, hurried away.
“One thing, Vesta,” Cloud cautioned. “Don’t throw it away too fast. Save some for next time.”
“Oh, I always do, chief. This’ll last me the week, easily. I run wild only when I’m in a winning streak.”
The host came up with her money; and as Vesta made a beeline for the nearest wheel:
“What do you like, Joan?” Cloud asked. “A wheel?”