"If you're not back in two days, we'll come in after you."
"I'll be back."
The air in the Spacerat's Roost was thick with Fung-weed smoke. Heydrick mingled with the crowd inside the doorway and noticed men from every inhabited world in the Solar System. He spotted a vacant table and elbowed his way to it. A drug-soaked horror from Venus, obviously the bouncer, looked dubiously at the newcomer in his scuffed prospector's leather. Heydrick pounded on the table for service.
The waiter was a Jovian octopus man with five tentacles and three eyes. He came and hovered over the table, blinking sadly, as if life was a burden to him.
"What'll you have?"
"What've you got?"
The waiter waved a tentacle airily. "Anything you can name—Snow-grape Champagne from Mars, Deimos rice-nectar, Toad's-eye brandy and Banana-beer from Venus ..." he paused dramatically, leaned close and whispered, "even a bit of Blue Moonfoam from Callisto for special customers."
Heydrick winked. "I'm a special customer."
"You must have more money than sense," the waiter observed. "It'll be twenty vikdals, Martian."