arrested a man. The charge was barratry. We had no name, only a heliophoto from Venus. In his possession we found documents relating to political matters of vital importance. Release of the information contained in his portfolio would be disastrous at this time. It could cause chaos, perhaps even war."

Coran grunted. "Such documents have no right to exist."

"I agree. Unfortunately, this one does exist. And it's no longer in our custody. A woman, obviously an accomplice, got a blaster-gun to him. Two ISP men were killed, and the prisoner escaped. The documents went with him. I don't have to tell you that both of these fugitives must be apprehended or killed. And those papers must be brought back or destroyed. That's your job."

"I don't like it."

"Tact isn't your long suit, is it, Lieutenant? You weren't asked if you liked it. With two black marks against your record, you can't afford an opinion. One more and you're through as an officer in the space patrol—"

"I don't like working out of uniform."

"—and I wouldn't count too much on a friendship with Paul Jomian, if I were you, Coran. He's through here ... even if he was kicked upstairs into the transport ministry. We no longer approve his methods. His rough-shod, undisciplined methods may get by in a frontier civilization like that of the outer planets, but nowadays we require efficiency and complete co-operation in the ISP. The time is past when an ISP officer can forget to change his uniform and go without shaving for days at a time."

Coran's eyes glittered. "There was more to Paul Jomian than gold braid and pretty uniforms. He was a man. And he got things done so a lot of you pretty-boys could sit on your fat chairs and keep your hair unmussed. For your information, those black marks on my record are for tearing apart superior officers who made cracks about Paul Jomian. Do you want me to turn in my badge?"

The official smiled poisonously. "That would be the easy way out for you, Coran. What's the matter—the job too tough for you?"

"I can't stand the smell of perfume around here. And the jobs don't come too tough. Relax, big shot. I'll run your stinking little errand for you. But it's the last one. When I hand your two-vikdal bad man over to you, I'm through. Make out my resignation that way, and I'll sign it before I leave."

The 

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