The blueskin led him down the twisting byways of Mars City, through heaps of filth and dark alleys. Mars was an old planet, cold and arid; its cities were thousands of years old, its people well skilled in the arts of evil. It wasn't the sort of planet an Earthman liked to stay on for long.
Kendall scowled. The way it looked, he'd be here longer than he was counting on. Hell, it would cost fifty dollars just to radio Earth and tell Kathy what had happened.
But he couldn't tell her. Not now, when she was about to have the baby. Not when she was so proud of the spaceman she saw only a few weeks out of each year. How could he tell her that he'd flunked the six-month exam?
"In here," the Martian said. "Das Shamra's suite is upstairs."
The Hotel Cosmos looked to Kendall like one of the better establishments on Mars. But even so, it wasn't very appetizing. Its hallways were dark and narrow: occasionally a groan or a harsh whisper could be heard coming from behind a thick wooden door. He didn't like the place.
"This is the floor," the blueskin said.
He opened the door and stepped inside. Moving cautiously, ready to turn tail and get out if something looked wrong, Kendall followed him.
The blueskin knelt. "This is Pilot Kendall."
"Pleased to meet you, Pilot Kendall," said an immensely fat Martian humped in an encircling webwork cradle. His small eyes were burned in rings of fat; his slit-like mouth was spread in a broad, unsavory grin. "I am Das Shamra," he said, in a deep, harsh voice.
Kendall poised himself on the balls of his toes, waiting uncertainly. "Why did you bring me here?"