No matter when Dane
dropped into the mess cabin, which was the common meeting place of the
spacer, he was apt to find others there before him, usually with a mug of
one of Mura's special brews close at hand, speculating about their
landing date.
Dane, himself, once he had thrown off the lingering effects of his
Sargolian illness, applied time to his studies. When he had first joined
the Queen as a recruit straight out of the training Pool, he had speedily
learned that all the ten years of intensive study then behind him had
only been an introduction to the amount he still had to absorb before he
could take his place as an equal with such a trader as Van Rycke--if he
had the stuff which would raise him in time to that exalted level. While
he had still had his superior's favor he had dared to treat him as an
instructor, going to him with perplexing problems of stowage or barter.
But now he had no desire to intrude upon the Cargo-master, and doggedly
wrestled with the microtapes of old records on his own, painfully
working out the why and wherefor for any departure from the regular
procedure.
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