"Space article violator," the old man informed Craig. "Psycho, I think. Went amuck with some extraterritorials. Killed a dozen."
"What will they do, exile him?"
"Not to Chociante, if that's what you mean. They just jerked his space card and gave him a one-way ticket to Terra."
"For twelve murders?" asked Craig incredulously.
"That's enough, son." The old man eyed Craig for an instant before looking away. "Pick something to talk about. What do you figure on doing when you get to Terra, for instance?"
"I'm going into Import. My father was in it for twenty years."
"Sure," said the old spaceman, watching a group of young crewmen engaged in an animated conversation.
"It's a good job. There's a future to it."
"Yeah."
Why did he have to explain anything at all to the old space tramp?