"Going to take it lying down?" jibed Sadie.
"Aw, cut it out, will you? What can I do about it? Kingfish Uranium has dropped from 240 to 23-1/4 on the big board since the rumors got around. I'm washed up; one of these days the Directors will remember I'm here and kick me out among the Incors."
"Look, Mike," said Frank. "The Space Patrol likes you. You've played ball with us before. We really want to help."
"Ain't nothin'.... I mean there's nothing you can do." That knuckle was taking punishment again.
"We got you out of a hole once, didn't we?"
"You sure did and I sure appreciates it." A faint light of hope dawned in those frightened, beady eyes.
"We can do it again," the captain went on. "But first we want to ask you one question: Do you think the Shots can take over the system with their new weapon?"
"Naw." The narrow shoulders sagged. "Everybody knows we'll be blown to bits if we try that. But we gotta try. Ain't no future for a man in this gawdforsaken hole. Some of the other Directors, they're rarin' to go, no matter what happens. Me, all I want is to live a while." He shook his balding head. "I don't even like commandanting any more ... don't get any fun outa it. Why, just yesterday I broke an Incor on the rack and, would you believe it, I didn't get any kick at all; I must be gettin' old." He seemed ready to cry.
"That's tough, Mike." Sadie was all sympathy. "But I have a plan to prevent any real trouble. It'll make you the biggest Shot on Venus, too ... for a consideration, of course."
"Yeah?" He leaned forward greedily. "Shoot."