He's dropped the Pilot, Kendall thought. Now it's just plain Mister.
"Okay, you know then. Sympathy isn't enough."
"I'm aware of that," Das Shamra said. "But is eight thousand dollars enough?"
Kendall stiffened. "Eight thousand dollars is exactly the passage-fee back to Earth," he said. "It happens to be exactly the sum I need." His voice was cold and flat.
Das Shamra grinned affably. "Indeed? Then we can talk business—for eight thousand dollars happens to be exactly the sum I'm prepared to offer you if you do a certain job for me."
"What kind of a job?"
"Piloting a spaceship."
"But that's impossible—" Kendall started to say, and stopped. By law, all space commerce was to be handled through Space Service and its authorized pilots. There was a reason for that; a spaceship out of control could destroy half a continent in a crash landing, and so only authorized personnel could be permitted to handle spacecraft. No private piloting was allowed.
But it might be worthwhile to hear him out. "Go on," Kendall said. "Give some details."
"First I must know if you're interested."