When everything had been settled, Adzel, Betty, and I threw ourselves a giant feast in his new apartment. After his fifth magnum of champagne, he gazed a trifle blurrily across the table and said to me: “Jimmy, my affection for you, my earnest wish to make a fractional return of your kindness, has hitherto been baffled.”
“Aw, nothing to mention,” I mumbled while he stopped a volcanic hiccough.
“At any rate.” Adzel wagged a huge finger. “He would be a poor friend who gave a dangerous gift.” He popped another cork and refilled our glasses and his stein. “That is, Jimmy, I was aware of your ambition to get into deep space, and not as a plyer of routine routes but as a discoverer, a pioneer. The question remained, could you cope with unpredictable environments?”
I gaped at him. The heart banged in my breast. Betty caught my hand.
“You have convinced me you can,” Adzel said. “True, Freeman Snyder may not give you his most ardent recommendation to the Academy. No matter. The cleverness and, yes, toughness with which you handled this problem—those convinced me, Jimmy, you are a true survivor type.”
He knocked back half a liter before tying the star-spangled bow knot on his package: “Being here on a League scholarship, I have League connections. I have been in correspondence. A certain Master Merchant I know will soon be in the market for another apprentice and accepts what I have told him about you. Are you interested?” I collapsed into Betty’s arms. She says she’ll find a way to follow me.