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Updated: May 22, 2025
And you're a Free Status man, unregistered, employed as a professional gamesman Class B?" Alan nodded. "That's right, sir." Gainer checked a notation on a pad he carried. "I suppose you've heard that the man who lived here Max Hawkes was killed in an attempted robbery this morning." "Y-yes, sir. I heard it a little while ago, on the newscasts. I'm still a little shaken up.
His voice was deeper and harsher than Alan remembered it. "Every gamesman knows Hawkes. He's the best there is." In the warm daylight, Steve looked even older than the twenty-six years that was his chronological age. To Alan's eyes he seemed to be a man who had been kicked around by life, a man who had not yet given up but who knew he didn't stand much of a chance for the future.
"Not unless you want to go in there alone?" "Huh?" "I can't go in there with you. I've got an A card, and that's a Class C joint." "You mean even gambling places are classified and regulated and everything?" Hawkes nodded. "It has to be that way. This is a very complicated society you've stumbled into, Alan. Look: I'm a first-rate gamesman.
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