 What does Peet seem to care about the most?
But now, on Mercury, he was selling his guns into the weirdest of all his exploits—gambling his life against the soft touch of a woman's lips. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories Summer 1945. The song was a rollicking, ribald ditty, a favorite of the planters and miners, the space pilots and army officers who frequented the garden. He did not look up at the singer but kept his pale, immature face bent over the keys, while his fingers lightly, automatically picked out the tune. Without looking up, he said: "Have you spotted him?" The night was very hot; but then it is always hot on Mercury, the newest, the wildest, the hottest of Earth's frontiers. "I did not want to call you in, Jaro Moynahan." "No! Mercury is not ready for freedom. The real Mercurian patriots are against it, but they are afraid to protest. The revolution is scheduled to break during the Festival of the Rains. If it does, the Terrestrials here will be massacred. Jaro Moynahan wiped the sweat from his forehead with a fine duraweb handkerchief. "There is one man; he is the leader, the very soul of the revolution. The Mercurians worship him. Jaro Moynahan refilled their empty glasses. The girl started, glanced at the pianist, said with a shiver: "We can't locate Karfial Hodes. He's stirring up all Mercury." "Ah," said Jaro Moynahan; "so that's the way it is." Jaro Moynahan slipped sideways from the table. Across the table from Jaro there was the feel of movement; he could sense it. Jaro Moynahan sat quietly back down and poured himself another glass of Latonka. On the hot, teeming planet of Mercury it was as refreshing as a cold plunge. Who, but Albert Peet. Peet controlled the Latonka trade for which there was a tremendous demand throughout the Universe. The Mercurian glanced at the bill, then back at the Earthman. Somewhere in those rat-runs was Karfial Hodes, the revolutionist, and the girl. They were never visible, but to his trained ears there came stealthy, revealing noises: the brush of cloth against the baked earth walls, the sly shuffle of a step. Jaro Moynahan In the East a sullen red glow stained the heavens like the reflection of a fire. Once back in his room, Jaro Moynahan stripped off his clothes, unbuckled a shoulder holster containing a compressed air slug gun, stepped under the shower.
 keeping all of his power and money
 keeping all of his power and money  the safety of all citizens on Mercury  getting off of Mercury  the people that work for him