"Drone-master Shluh, Internal Security," he croaked. The guard tilted his eyes toward Retief.
"The guest of the Autonomy," Shluh added. "To let me pass or to rot in this spot, fool?"
"To pass, Drone-master," the sentry mumbled. He was still staring at Retief as the car moved jerkily away.
"You are as good as pegged out on the hill in the pleasure pits now, Terrestrial," Shluh said in Terran. "Why do you venture here?"
"Pull over there in the shadow of the tower and stop," Retief said.
Shluh complied. Retief studied the row of four slender ships parked on the ramp, navigation lights picked out against the early dawn colors of the sky.
"Which of those boats are ready to lift?" Retief demanded.
Shluh swiveled a choleric eye.
"All of them are shuttles; they have no range. They will not help you."
"To answer the question, Shluh, or to get another crack on the head."