At the ship young Trippe greeted him with haggard astonishment. He jumped forward joyfully.
"Trav! By jig, Trav, I thought we'd lost you. Old Dolly's over at the local police sta—" He stopped abruptly and stood slack-jawed as Navel and Lappy clambered fearfully through the lock. Travis glanced back. No spectators. Good.
"Now what in the sweet silly name—" Trippe began, but Travis stopped him.
"Russ, be a good kid. See if you can get me something to eat. Haven't had a bite in 24 hours."
"Sure, Trav, sure, only—what's with the Lower Depths here?"
"You might show them the showers," Travis grinned. "Or at least turn on the air conditioning. But listen, anything new on the contract?"
Trippe's face fell. "Not a thing. Even worse. Let me tell you. But ho, the food." He dashed off. Travis collapsed into a chair. A few moments later Trippe came back bearing food, but his eyes by now had begun to penetrate the dirt of the girl, and he stood watching her, bemused. Then suddenly he began to look happier than he had in several days. Travis told him briefly what had happened in the sewer, also about the brains of Lappy. Trippe was impressed. But he continued to regard the girl.
"Well," Travis said, munching, "fill me in on what's been going on. The eclipse come off?"
Trippe jerked. He focussed on Travis unhappily.
"Oh boy, did it come off. Wait'll you hear. Listen, you know the way it is now, I think they're going to kick all Earthmen off this planet. The M.C. says we may have to leave and come back a hundred years from now. Not anybody going to get a contract now."