His Ident disc got him onto the lander, down to the spaceport, and out onto the street. One of the Polixaci attendants at the final gates studied the details of his rights-of-passage codes with extreme care, but found no reasons to deny him. The attendant chittered, and the disc translated it into: “Enjoy your stay on Lignol.”
The Yourian had been specific about where to go and who to see. The specialist had him stand in an enclosed scanner for a moment, and then studied the results intently. “I can give you fifty, sixty extra years, tops. Cash up front.”
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