The Patrol will escort us out and see that we get down
to work like good little space men. We'll have two years of a nice, quiet
run on regular pay. Then, when all the powers that shine have forgotten
about us, we can cut in on the trade routes again."
"And the pay?" "First or second class mail?" "When do we start?"
"Standard pay on the completion of each run--Board rates," he made
replies in order. "First, second and third class mail--anything that
bears the government seal and out in those quarters it is apt to be
_anything_! And you start as soon as you can get to Xecho and relieve the
Combine scout which has been holding down the run."
"While you go to Sargol--" commented Jellico.
"While I make one voyage to Sargol. You can spare me," he dropped one of
his big hands on Dane's shoulder and gave the flesh beneath it a quick
squeeze. "Seeing as how our juniors helped pull us out of this last
mix-up we can trust them about an inch farther than we did before.
Anyway--Cargo-master on a mail run is more or less a thumb-twiddling job
at the best. And you can trust Thorson on stowage--that's one thing he
_does_ know.
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