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Montero continued as they drifted down the corridor. "He is the 'strong man' in our local underworld. He has always claimed that he 'deserved' a bigger territory than our poor ghetto. I believe he will see this as his chance. His partner Paco is a sociopath and a classic sadist."
    They halted in front of a bunk area with only two occupants. Rafael Hernandez was a wide, muscular, compact man, unshaven, with a ragged scar running down one side of his face. He grimaced when he saw Cesar Montero. "What do you want here, old man? Gonna lecture me some more about 'civic duty'?"
    Cesar shook his head. "No, Rafael. One can beat his head against a wall only so many times. No, these westerners want to talk to you about a business deal."
    Hernandez brightened. "Business, huh?" He turned his attention to Ron. "Whaddaya want, Whitey? We really ain't had time to get the gamblin' and girls set up, yet."
    Ron suppressed his disgust. "Glad to hear it," he replied. "I want to make you a deal on a bunk swap."
    The thug looked faintly irritated. "Go on," he said.
    "We're from an Undie dorm on the next deck up. We've got a middle bunk and a lower to swap for the same down here."
    "Swap, hell," Hernandez said in an irritated tone. "Upstairs, huh? What's your offer?"
    Ron shrugged. "We've got a few EarthGov credits. What's your price?"
    "A hundred credits, each."
    Ron turned to Vlad. "Let's go, Vlad. This small-timer doesn't want to do business, he just wants to flex his muscles." They turned to leave.
    "Wait!" Hernandez said. "What's your offer?"
    Ron shrugged. "Fifty for the pair, with the swap. And you get to move up and take a swing at the big leagues."
    Hernandez shook his head, and then grinned. "Tell ya what. For a hunnert, you get this whole bunk group, all twelve bunks."
    Ron frowned. "What about the other occupants?"
    Hernandez' grin turned feral. "They, uh, decided to relocate."
    Ron suppressed a grimace. "Okay, it's a deal." To avoid having to shake with Hernandez, he took the man's card from the bunk where it was hanging, and wrote the dorm and bunk numbers for the upstairs bunks on it. "Give us an hour to get moved out, and you can move in." He opened his pouch and pulled out a hundred-credit bill, sighing in evident reluctance as he drew it out and passed it to Hernandez. "There's some tough boys up there," he added. "Get somebody to tell you about Jack Tundell."
    "Yeah? Well, we can handle it, eh, Paco?" He nudged the slim, colorless man with the dead eyes. Paco just nodded.
    "What happened to the others in that group?" Ron asked Cesar Montero as they floated down the corridor.
    The old man shrugged. "Three of them were members of Rafael's gang. He just told them to move, and they kicked other people out of bunks in other groups. Two others are in the med bay. The others saw what happened, and moved out without complaint. They are sleeping in the corridor now. It is not yet a problem, but once we boost out…" He shrugged again.
    Ron frowned. "Well, the ones that were kicked out can start moving back. We would like to have our pick of the bunks, but we will pay those we displace. We wish to make friends here, not enemies. How many were in Rafael's gang? And how many other gangs are in this dorm?"
    Montero's smile was sad. "They were only six, but they succeeded in terrorizing our neighborhood. Rafael and Paco were the worst, though. The others are mostly bullies and sycophants."
    Vlad smiled. "Sycophants?"
    Cesar's smile widened. "I am a retired teacher," he said. "Occasionally I 'blow my cover' as the proverbial oriental wise man by using high-flown verbiage." He waved helplessly. "The translators make it even worse. I can't even resort to the stereotype stilted English westerners seem to expect."
    "Ah!" Vlad's white smile was broad. "A shortcoming we share. I find it impossible to maintain the proper 'cotton patch' accent, myself." It was becoming obvious that the black roboticist and the Asian retired teacher were relating