 What was expressed as the time limit on Moynihan’s work?
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. 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. The pianist swung around on his stool, lifted his black eyes to the gate leading to the street. The revolution is scheduled to break during the Festival of the Rains. 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. "Ah," said Jaro Moynahan; "so that's the way it is." One moment the garden was glowing in light, the next the hot black night swooped down on the revelers, pressing against their eyes like dark wool. 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. Peet controlled the Latonka trade for which there was a tremendous demand throughout the Universe. For centuries they had lived most their lives beneath ground to escape the terrible rays of the sun. Only at night did they emerge to work their fields and ply their trades. The Mercurian glanced at the bill, then back at the Earthman. If the girl had been abducted, only Mercurians could have engineered it in the dark; and the Mercurians were a clannish lot. Back on the narrow alley-like street Jaro Moynahan headed for his hostelry. By stretching out his arms he could touch the buildings on either side: buildings with walls four feet thick to keep out the heat of the sun. At infrequent intervals green globes cut a hole in the night, casting a faint illumination. 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. The Mercurian dawn was about to break. 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.
 Before the The Festival of the Rains
 Before Karfial Hodes’ capture  Before the Earth Congress votes on Mercurian independence  Before the The Festival of the Rains  Before Moynihan’s return to Mars