"Yes."
"I'm glad. He's a good man, stupid when he hits the bottle but nice in a lot of other ways. Did I tell you he was teaching me how to be an engineer?"
"You did-and you'd better get that dope to him fast. We're close to supraspeed. Bring the hypogun back to me afterwards."
Dumarest was in his cabin when the steward returned. He sat on the edge of his bunk, a deck of cards in his hands, the cards intermeshing with a dry rustle as he manipulated the pack. Lin watched with interest; then, as he replaced the hypogun in its cabinet, said, "Why won't you let me join the game, Earl?"
"I told you: you'd lose."
The youngster was argumentative. "How can you be sure of that? Yalung said that the stakes needn't be high and he keeps asking me to join in. It wouldn't hurt to let me play, sometimes."
"You've got other things to do," said Dumarest. "Studying, for one. You won't become an officer if you waste your time and money."
"Please, Earl!"
Dumarest looked up and saw the young face, the eyes now drained of their superficial hardness and filled with the aching desire to know, to learn, to gain precious knowl shy;edge. To become adult in the shortest possible time. Once he had felt exactly the same: impatient with the slow pas shy;sage of the years and eager to gain experience so as to catch up. He had gained it, learning the hard way, surviving his mistakes and paying for his failures.
But how to pass on the accumulated knowledge of years?
Dumarest looked at the cards. It was a normal deck with ace, lord, lady, jester, and ten to the deuce four times re shy;peated in differentiating colors. Abruptly he riffled the deck and slammed the cards on the table supporting the player.
"You want to gamble," he said. "We'll do just that. Make a bet and cut-highest wins."
"That's a kid's game." Lin was disgusted. "A matter of luck."
"You think so?" Dumarest picked up the deck and separated three cards. "How about this, then? Find the jester." He held two cards in his right hand, one in his left. The jester was the lowest of the cards of his right. "See it?"
Lin nodded.
"Now bet." Dumarest moved his hands, the cards fall shy;ing on the top of the player. "Which is the jester?"
"This one." Lin reached out to turn it over and winced as Dumarest caught his wrist. "Earl! What the hell!"
"This isn't a game," said Dumarest flatly. "Where's your money?"
Lin found coins and dropped them on the selected card.
Dumarest turned it over. "You lose. Try again."
Lin lost a second time, a third. At the eighth failure he glared at Dumarest. "You're cheating!"
"No, how can I do that? The cards are all in front of you." Dumarest picked them up and showed their faces to the steward. "I'm outguessing you, that's all. You lack the ex shy;perience to know what I'm doing. And you lack the ex shy;perience to gamble with Yalung. He'll take you for all you've got."
Lin was stubborn. "The luck could come my way."
"Luck has nothing to do with it," said Dumarest im shy;patiently. "Not when you're playing with a professional gambler. And there's something else." He scooped up the money Lin had lost and heaped it to one side. From the deck of cards he dealt two, one to either side of the coins. "We're playing for the middle," he explained. "And I'm betting one thousand that my card is higher than yours."
"A thousand!" Lin looked defeated. "I can't see you. I haven't that much money."
"So you lose." Dumarest picked up the coins. "You can't win against someone who can beat every bet you make. Understand?"
He didn't, of course, and he wouldn't grasp the point of the demonstration until he'd learned it the hard way. But Dumarest had done his part. Dropping the coins into Lin's hand he said to the relieved steward, "Stick to your books. Watch the play if you like, but remember-don't gamble out of your class."
Words, he thought as he followed Lin from the cabin, and ones which made good sense. But since when have the young ever listened to good advice? He would play and he would lose, and maybe he would learn after he had paid the price. But he wouldn't play on this ship and certainly not with Yalung.
Dumarest thought about the passenger as he made his way along the passage towards the control room. The yellow-faced man remained an enigma; the secret parts of his mind were bounded with layers of protection. Of only one thing was Dumarest certain: the man was addicted to gambling; he would play long past the time when other men would have become satiated. And he played shrewdly and well.
The door to the control room was unlocked. Dumarest pressed it open and stepped into a cool dimness where ma shy;chines held a life of their own and instruments shone in soft reflections. To one side Nimino straightened from where he had stooped over a panel and raised a hand in warning.
"No noise," he said. "No sudden movement, Earl. It would be most unwise."
Dumarest followed the direction of his eyes. Slumped in the shielding confines of the big control chair, Sheyan's head was invisible beneath a mass of pulsing gray. It fitted like a cap, leaving only the mouth and nostrils clear.
"A symbiote from Elgart," explained the navigator quietly. "In return for a little blood it provides tranquilizing dreams. I remove it long before we are due to land."
"How long?"
"An hour. Sometimes more. What does it matter?"
A captain who was blind and deaf to any impending danger. It mattered!
"He cannot stand the sight of the stars," said Nimino, guessing Dumarest's thoughts. "And he cannot leave the ship. He travels with fear as his constant companion. Call him a coward if you wish, but the fact remains."
"There are cures," said Dumarest. "Psychological manip shy;ulations."
"Perhaps, but not for Sheyan. His trouble cannot be cured, only accepted. For he is terrified of death and extinction. He will not accept the truths men have discovered: that one does not lead to the other. And without that convic shy;tion he is lost. The symbiote enables him to forget what he dare not face."
"He is mad," said Dumarest. "Insane."
"Can we really blame him? His life has been spent in the Web. How long can any man tread the edge of danger and remain wholly sane?" Nimino lifted his arm and pointed to shy;wards the screens. "Look at it, Earl. Try to imagine what you cannot see. The forces which are in continual imbalance as the stars fight for supremacy. That is why it is called the Web. Channels of relative safety run between the gravi shy;tational wells of stars and planets, slender lines like the filaments of a mass of gossamer. We have to follow them, threading our way with the aid of electronic sensors, balanc shy;ing our speed and energy against external forces. And al shy;ways, at any time, that delicate balance can be upset. Con shy;traterrene matter exploding in a sun, a meshing of electro shy;magnetic fields, solar flares and even the juxtaposition of worlds. And also there is the dust. Earl, no man who has not traversed the Web can appreciate its dangers."
IV
argonilla was a cold, bleak, inhospitable world with snow thick on the landing field and sleet carried on the wind. Yalung took one look outside and retired to his cabin.
"There will be no stones of value here," he said positive shy;ly. "And little of anything else."
Claude verified his prophecy. He came into the hold, blowing, his big frame muffled in shapeless garments. "They had a ship three days ago," he said disgustedly. "A trader bound for Thermyle. It took every decent pelt in the place."
Dumarest turned from where he tested the cargo restraints. "Do many ships call here bound for the terminal?"
"Hell, no. It was a wanderer dropping in on speculation to pick up anything that was going. The first ship to call in months and they beat us by three days. We would have done well."
"Trading iron for furs?"
"You're learning, Earl. This planet is short of heavy metal and we could have done a nice trade. Not now, though; there's no point in giving the stuff away. Sheyan's trying to get us something worth carrying." Claude shrugged. "I doubt if he'll find it."