II
Retief put down the heavy travel-battered suitcase and leaned on the counter, studying the schedules chalked on the board under the legend "ALDO CERISE—INTERPLANETARY." A thin clerk in a faded sequined blouse and a plastic snakeskin cummerbund groomed his fingernails, watching Retief from the corner of his eye.
Retief glanced at him.
The clerk nipped off a ragged corner with rabbitlike front teeth and spat it on the floor.
"Was there something?" he said.
"Two twenty-eight, due out today for the Jorgensen group," Retief said. "Is it on schedule?"
The clerk sampled the inside of his right cheek, eyed Retief. "Filled up. Try again in a couple of weeks."
"What time does it leave?"
"I don't think—"
"Let's stick to facts," Retief said. "Don't try to think. What time is it due out?"