"I'll think about it," said Dumarest.

"You do that."

"I will."

That and other things. His name and thumb print registered at the gate, both obviously to be fed into a computer, a record impossible for him to erase and a signpost to any who might be looking. And some would be looking, of that he was sure. A mistake to have paid the deposit, perhaps, another way could have been found, but it would have taken time and needless risk. Speed then, he decided. He would do what he had come to do and do it fast.

Dumarest slowed and looked around. A wide road ran from the field now busy with traffic and pedestrians. Men and women, neatly dressed, their faces telling of comfortable living, wandered on either side. Shops with large windows of glass or transparent plastic offered a variety of goods for sale. Taverns echoed soft music and the scents of food.

A nice, warm, comfortable world and Dumarest could understand the desire of the inhabitants to keep it that way.

A car slowed to halt beside him, the driver, a young man with a peaked cap adorned with multi-colored piping smiling from his seat.

"Want to ride, mister?"

"No."

"I'm heading into the city. Half a deci gets you there. A cut-rate, mister, and why hurt yourself for a little money?" His smile widened as Dumarest sat in the passenger compartment. "Anywhere special?"

"You know the Wanderer's Rest?"

"Sure." Eyes too old for the face slid towards him. "It's a home for the senile. You want a little action then leave it to me. Some luxuries, maybe? A girl or two? Some gambling? Name it and it's yours."

"Just take me where I said."

Leaning back Dumarest studied the town. The buildings were all in good repair but with a pool of cheap labor readily available that was to be expected. As was the absence of beggars and the usual touts to be found at any landing field, but the driver had already said enough for him to know that what he saw was a facade over the usual vice.

"Right, mister." The driver held out a hand. "The Wanderer's Rest. Two decis."

"You said a half."

"Man, you're crazy. The fare is two. You want to argue I'll call a guard."

Dumarest looked to either side. Down the street he caught a flash of scarlet and emerald. Opposite a pair of women were gossiping and, lower down, a young couple walked arm in arm.

"Two decis." The driver snapped his fingers. "Come on, man, give. I've no time to haggle with a yokel."

"Two decis," said Dumarest. He fumbled in a pocket, leaning close, hiding the driver from view. The man squealed as fingers closed like steel claws around his arm. "Is a broken arm worth it?"

"You! I-" The man gulped as fingers dug into flesh and grated against bone. "No, mister! No!"

"Two decis?"

Sweat beaded the driver's face as he stared into the hard visage inches from his eyes. The hand gripping his arm was threatening to tear the muscle from the bone, to snap the limb. The pain of impacted nerves was a fire searing naked tissue.

"No! A mistake! For God's sake, mister, let me go!"

"To shout for the guard? To argue about the fare?"

"No!"

"Changed your mind about cheating me?" Dumarest climbed back into the vehicle. "Drop me in the middle of town."

It ringed a plaza set with fountains and flowering shrubs, shaded by graceful trees and dotted with convenient benches. Some children played at the foot of a statue; a cluster of men with their faces turned upwards to face the sky. It had been cast from a reddish metal now bright and smoothly polished. A man stood before it a duster in his hand. He was dressed in grey, wore a round hat and had a wide collar of dull, black metal clamped around his neck.

Dumarest said, "How much do they pay you?"

"Pay me?" The man turned, blinking. "Who are you, mister? Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious. Well?"

"I don't get paid," said the man, dully. "But for each day I work I get five decis knocked off my debt."

And, if he tried to run, the radio-linked collar could be activated to blow the head from his shoulders.

"What about your deposit?"

"What deposit? I was born here." The man turned to wipe his duster over the statue. "At that I'm lucky. They won't let me starve and I'm given shelter. My wife left me, of course, and my kid disowned me but, in seven years, three months and eleven days they'll unlock this collar and set me free."

"And, if someone paid the debt?"

"I'd be freed at once. I only owed money, mister, I didn't hurt anyone. Even if I had I could buy my way out after taking my lashes. You-no."

"Something?"

"You look like a stranger. If you want some good advice get off this world as soon as you can. Without money you'd be better off dead and, if you've got some, they'll be after it. The vultures, I mean. But who the hell ever takes good advice?"

"I do." Dumarest handed the man twenty days of freedom. "This isn't charity-I don't believe in it. I'm buying information. Where can I find the best computer service in town?"

It was housed in an ornate building which reared close to the edge of the city. Glass reflected the light of the setting sun as Dumarest made his way towards it and he paused, looking at the intricate stone-work, wondering who had paid for it and why.

Inside he found out. The receptionist was svelte, young, vaguely interested in his requirements. A woman, he guessed, with more than work on her mind. Patiently he explained his needs.

"Computer time, certainly, that's what we're here to deliver. Now if you will let us have the relevant documents and authorization-"

"What authorization?"

"Why, the permission to use the documents for the purpose your claim." Long eyelashes dropped to cover impatient eyes. "Is it really necessary for me to explain?"

Dumarest said, coldly, "I am a personal friend of the Director. He has asked me to conduct a test of your attitude towards the general public. I find it most interesting. Now, if you please, I would like your name and status." His tone chilled even more. "At once!"

"I- But you can't! I mean-"

"You deny me the information? Am I to assume you lack the right to sit where you do? Inform your superior that I wish to make an immediate appointment. Move, girl. Move!"

Twenty minutes later he was ushered into an office occupying the corner of the fifth floor. A woman rose as he entered, coming forward to meet him, both hands extended. As their palms touched she said, "Earl Dumarest. You have been on this world less than two hours and already I have one slightly hysterical girl on my hands. Are you really a friend of the Director?"

A woman who knew so much would know more. "No."

"I am glad that you didn't lie. It would have been a stupid pretense. My name, incidentally is Hilda Benson. My status, if you are interested, is comptroller of external outlets." She smiled, a dumpy, aging woman who radiated an air of competence. "What made you so annoyed downstairs?"

"Stupidity."

"The girl's or the system's?"

"Perhaps both. She wanted documents-I have none. She demanded an authorization to use the documents I didn't have. We were getting nowhere."

"So you did something about it. Please sit. Now, how can we help you?" She frowned as he told her. "You want to find a world? A planet called Earth? And you come to us for that?"

"Where better?"

"An almanac, surely. One can be found in any library."

"Can you supply the information?"

"Of course. If a library has the information then so do we. An incredible amount of data is stacked in our memory banks and that information naturally includes all known astronomical data, all navigational tables, the most recent listing and-" She broke off, shaking her head. "Well, it's your money and if you want to waste it who am I to object? Earth, you say?" A terminal stood to one side of the office and she crossed to it, her fingers dancing over the keys. "This will only take a moment."