"Feel better?" The blond giant steadied Greg in a sitting position.
"What's this all about?" Greg felt for the lump on his head.
"Well, they haven't told me about you," the fellow grinned, "but I can guess. When someone starts to ask about a berth on a freighter, they figure that he's either a potential crew member or a spy. Either way, they figure they'd better take him aboard. I got took just the same way, ten years ago. I'm not sorry now. It's a pretty good life."
"Look, I've got some money." Greg struggled to his feet. "Who can I see to get out of here?"
"Too late," Moore said. "We've blasted off. You've been out cold for two days. Don't you feel the ship?"
Greg sat down again, and suddenly he felt better. After all wasn't he on his way to Mars, where he had wanted to go all along? He could worry about smuggling himself onto the planet later, when they started to toss out the cargo....
Moore introduced him to his duties in the ho