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“How you feel?” she asked, stopping just inside the room.

“I … uh–” The Guesser hardly knew what to say. He was in a totally alien environment, a completely unknown situation. “I’m fine,” he said at last.

She nodded. “You get plenty sleep, all right. Like dead, except when you talk to yourself.”

Then he had spoken in delirium. “How … how long was I out?”

“Three days,” she said flatly. “Almost four.” She paused. “You ship leave.”

“Leave?” The Guesser said blankly. “The Naipor? Gone?” It seemed as if the world had dropped away from his feet, leaving him to fall endlessly through nothingness. It was true, of course. It didn’t take more than twenty-four hours to unload the ship’s holds, and, since there had been no intention of reloading, there was no need to stay. He had long overstayed the scheduled take-off time.

It created a vacuum in his mind, a hole in his very being that could never be filled by anything else. The ship was his whole life–his home, his work, his security.

“How did you know about the ship?” he asked in a dazed voice.

“A notice,” she said. She fished around in one of the big pockets of the gray dress and her hand came out with a crumpled sheet of glossy paper. She handed it to him silently. It was a Breach of Contract notice.

WANTED

for

BREACH OF CONTRACT
 

JAIM JAKOM DIEGO

AGE: 35
HEIGHT: 185 cm
WEIGHT: 96 kg
HAIR: black
EYES: blue
COMPLXN: fair

Jaim Jakom Diego, Spacetech 3rd Guesser, broke contract with Interstellar Trade Corporation on 3/37/119 by failing to report for duty aboard home merchantship Naipor on that date. All citizens are notified hereby that said Jaim Jakom Diego is unemployable except by the ITC, and that he has no housing, clothing, nor subsistance rights on any planet, nor any right to transportation of any kind.

STANDARD REWARD PLUS BONUS FOR INFORMATION LEADING TO THE ARREST OF THIS MAN

The Guesser looked at the picture that accompanied the notice. It was an old one, taken nearly fifteen years before. It didn’t look much like him any more. But that didn’t matter; even if he was never caught, he still had no place to go. A runaway had almost no chance of remaining a runaway for long. How would he eat? Where would he live?

He looked up from the sheet, into the woman’s face. She looked back with a flat, unwavering gaze. He knew now why she had been addressing him as an equal, even though she knew he was Class Three.

“Why haven’t you tried to collect the reward?” he asked. He felt suddenly weak, and sat down again on the edge of the bed.

“Me, I need you.” Then her eyes widened a trifle. “Pale you look, you do. I get you something solid inside you. Nothing but soup I get down you so far, all three days. Soup. You sit, I be back.”

He nodded. He was feeling sickish.

She went into the other room, leaving the door open, and he could hear noises from the small kitchen. The woman began to talk, raising her voice a little so he could hear her.

“You like eggs?” she asked.

“Some kinds,” said The Guesser. “But it doesn’t matter. I’m hungry.” He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

“Some kinds?” The woman’s voice was puzzled. “They more than one kind of egg?” The kitchen was suddenly silent as she waited intently for the answer.

“Yes,” said The Guesser. “On other planets. What kind of eggs are these?”

“Just … just eggs.”