Fairchild spoke to Caine without raising his head. "Maybe Mr. Caine doesn't really believe in the existence of the Screece gem. Do you, Mr. Caine?" he said, looking up.
Caine took a cigarette from a package in his shirt. "I'm just paid to get you to a temple, not to think."
"You're evading the question," Fairchild said. His eyes were narrow now, and a bit glazed.
Caine lit his cigarette and blew smoke into the damp air. He kept his voice non-committal. "I've heard about it. Everybody in the Colony has heard about it."
"Correction," said Fairchild. "Everybody in the System has heard about it."
"It's a very popular myth," Caine agreed.
The man stood up. "It is not a myth, Mr. Caine. It exists and it's in that temple, do you hear me? There is no dammed myth about it, just cold hard fact, and I'm going to find it and take it out of there! Is that clear?"
Caine watched the man's taut figure. He inhaled his cigarette. "I told you, Mr. Fairchild, I'm just paid to fly the ship and I'm not paid to think. I'm responsible for getting you to the temple. That's all."
"Listen," Fairchild said, crossing to Caine and reaching for the front of Caine's shirt. "Don't get insolent with me...."