Joel saw a detachment of guards drawn up at the curb. They wore white uniforms and pith helmets and carried small automatic paralyzers. A crowd began to collect behind the double line of guards, which ran like a gauntlet into a massive prison-like structure. From behind him, Nick Thorp said, "Here's an old friend of yours."
"Who?" He glanced up in surprise, recognized Priscilla Cameron grinning at him with an impish expression.
She was dressed in crisp white shorts and a brief jacket. Her green hair wasn't so startling as it had been aboard ship. Joel had noticed other women on the street of Eden with green hair, with yellow hair, with cerise, vermillion, chartreuse hair. It obviously was the latest mode of Asgard.
"That's the one, Colonel!" he heard Priscilla say to the man beside her. "Be sure to notify me when he comes up for sale."
Joel reddened.
The colonel touched his cap. "I'll be glad to, Miss Cameron." He turned to Captain Goplerud.
"Move them inside, Captain. They're not used to the suns. Have a good crossing?"
"Rotten," said Goplerud. "I'm glad to get 'em off my hands. Watch that fellow Hakkyt, by the way. He's a killer."
Then the line began to move. He had been carried beyond earshot into the dim warmth of the prison.