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Updated: May 8, 2025
Hawkes was a complex, many-faceted character; he seemed to have been everywhere on Earth, done everything the planet had to offer. And yet there was no boastfulness in his tone as he spoke of his exploits; he was simply stating facts. Apparently his income from gambling was staggering; he averaged nearly a thousand credits a night, night in and night out.
Hawkes came back bearing two drinks another beer for himself and a whiskey for Steve. He set them out on the table and said, "Well, drink up. Here's hoping you make Class A and stay there." "Thanks," Steve said, and drained his drink in a single loud gulp. His eyes widened; he started to say something, but never got the words out.
When the vender was gone, Hawkes said, "Remind me to explain rotation to you when we get aboard the Shoot. And here it comes now." Alan turned and saw a silvery torpedo come whistling through the air and settle in the landing-rack of the platform; it looked like a jet-powered vessel of some kind. A line formed, and Hawkes stuffed a ticket into Alan's hand.
The others nearby were busy doing the same thing, but few of them set about it with the air of cocky jauntiness that Hawkes wore. Finally he stared at the board in satisfaction and sat back. The croupier pounded three times with a little gavel and said, "103 sub-prime 5." Hastily Hawkes made a correction in his equation.
"Everyone's anxious to have you come back on board." For a moment Steve sat silent, indecisive, frowning deeply. Then he made up his mind. He shook his head. "No both of you. Thanks, but I don't want any. Keep your seven thousand, Hawkes. And you, Alan go back to the ship and forget all about me. I don't even deserve a second chance." "You're wrong!"
He isn't required to register there, but if he did you'd be able to track him down eventually. If he didn't, I'm afraid you're out of luck. You just can't find a man on Earth if he doesn't want to be found." "Free Status? Isn't that what the policeman said " "I was in?" Hawkes nodded. "Sure, I'm Free Status. Out of choice, though, not necessity. But that doesn't matter much right now.
Colonel Hawkes brought up old scenes and memories which are best forgotten. Your music has always a soothing effect on me. I took my violin up, and leaning against the mantle-piece opposite to her, I began to play in the firelight. I played, as I loved to play, without notes before me, and soon I was in a dream myself.
"His name is Steve Donnell, sir. Born 3576. He jumped ship in " "Born when, did you say?" "They're spacers," Hawkes pointed out quietly. MacIntosh shrugged. "Go ahead." "Jumped ship in 3867 I think. It's so hard to tell what year it is on Earth." "And physical description?" "He was my twin," Alan said. "Identical twin."
Come closer and throw a heaving line, and send your boat, if you like, for the grub. Our boats are all lashed down." "That's reasonable," answered Forsythe. "Hawkes, Davis, Daniels, Billings you fellows clear away that boat of ours, and stand by to go for the grub." The two craft drew together, and for the rest it was like the other holdup.
The door was opened by a Brownie, disguised in a cap and apron. This was Direxia Hawkes, aunt to Diploma Grotty. In his mind Geoffrey had christened the little house the Aunt's Nest, but he never dared to tell anybody this. "Well, Direxia, how is Mrs. Tree to-day? would she like to see me, do you think?" "She ain't no need to see you!" The young doctor looked grieved, and turned away.
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