On the frontier Rim of the Galaxy, where the
independent spacers traced the star trails, fast thinking and the ability
to change plans on an instant were as important as skill in aiming a
blaster. And it was very often proven that the tongue--and the brain
behind it--were more deadly than a flamer.
The sun was in Dane's face now and he caught sight of patches of
uncontaminated earth with honest vegetation--in place of the "hot" jungle
now miles behind. That night he camped out on the edge of rough pasturage
where the counter no longer flashed its warning and he was able to shed
the suit and sleep under the stars with the fresh air of early summer
against his cheek and the smell of honest growing things replacing the
dry scent of the spacer and the languorous perfumes of Sargol.
He lay on his back, flat against the earth of which he was truly a part,
staring up into the dark, inverted bowl of the heavens. It was so hard to
connect those distant points of icy light making the well remembered
patterns overhead with the suns whose rays had added to the brown stain
on his skin.
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