Hale started to say something, but Randy's hands were suddenly tight on Hale's arms, and his breath carried the taint of inque liquor to Hale's nostrils. "Hale, you've got to help me. I want to get off Mars. That was why I did it. It was my first mark. Oh, I've drifted the canals and chilled some decks, but this was my first mark—"
Hale said, "I came in to try to help, Randy. If you'll walk out with me, it'll be easier all around."
Randy shook his head fiercely. "Lord, you don't want them to turn me over to the redboys, do you? The Lhrai priests can peel a man and keep him alive for days—"
Uncomfortably, Hale said, "I couldn't help you if I wanted to. They're waiting outside."
Randy took breath through his teeth. "Just stay here. Let me walk out. They won't blast, thinking it's you. Is your beetle anywhere near the temple?"
"They're practically sitting on it."
"Then I can break for the desert. It's a good chance in the dark. I can cut up along Coprates to Freightport and—"
Hal said, "No, Randy."
Randy laughed softly, and the laugh had all the old familiar recklessness in it, but it couldn't hide the fear. "You will, Hale. I got into this mess trying to do what you always told me to—get a new start on some other clod. There are plenty of jobs on Venus. Maybe I can still stowaway to Venus. I swear that's where I'll go, if you'll only let me through that door."
"Venus has a skid-row, too."