Stark shrugged. "Of course."
He walked on to meet the rider, who had dismounted, leaving his beast behind. He was a slight, wiry man, this EPC officer, with the rawhide look of the frontiers still on him. His hair was grizzled and his sun-blackened skin was deeply lined, but there was nothing in the least aged about his hard good-humored face nor his remarkably keen dark eyes.
"It's been a long time, Eric," he said.
Stark nodded. "Sixteen years." The two men studied each other for a moment, and then Stark said, "I thought you were still on Mercury, Ashton."
"They've called all us experienced hands in to Mars." He held out cigarettes. "Smoke?"
Stark took one. They bent over Ashton's lighter, and then stood there smoking while the wind blew red dust over their feet and the three men of the patrol waited quietly beside the Banning. Ashton was taking no chances. The electro-beam could stun without injury.
Presently Ashton said, "I'm going to be crude, Eric. I'm going to remind you of some things."
"Save it," Stark retorted. "You've got me. There's no need to talk about it."
"Yes," said Ashton, "I've got you, and a damned hard time I've had doing it. That's why I'm going to talk about it."