Boone. "Boone, do you know the story on that?" "No, I'm afraid not." "Then read this--a report from the top labs of your own damned organization! Don't ask me how I got it." The Independents' rep was fumbling in a briefcase as he spoke. He drew out a thick blue-covered folder and handed it to Boone. Boone stared down at it. "Titan Fever: An investigation of Untreated Cases," the title read. The binder was stamped "MOST SECRET" in big block letters, and it bore the official seal of Interplanetary Cartels' central research unit. But the thing that held his eye was the signature on the submission. The signature of Martin Krobis. Frowning, he riffled through the document to the final page: "... In summary, then, the following tentative conclusions may be reported: 1. Although occasional deaths due to complications sometimes result from Titan fever, most untreated cases may be expected to recover. 2. However, there is definite evidence that such cases undergo an extreme mutation of the gametes. 3. While no adverse physiological effects of this mutation are apparent in infants born to parents one or both of whom have been infected, significant mental changes and/or deterioration stand out clearly. 4. No such mutative effect is evident in cases treated with chandak extract or their offspring. On the basis of available data, therefore, it is considered urgent that all cases of Titan fever developing among Interplanetary Cartels personnel or their families be given prompt treatment with chandak extract. All base administrative chiefs are explicitly made responsible for seeing that such treatment is carried out as directed." Stiff-fingered, Boone closed the folder. Again, his eyes met Terral's. The lean man's face had grown bleak as Mars' windswept deserts. "Do you know what it's going to mean when that report gets out?" "I can imagine.""Can you? I wonder." The other raised a clenched fist; shook it. "Boone, it means a Cartel-dominated solar system, the end of human freedom! IC's got a monopoly on chandak and they intend to hold it, Federation or no Federation. The rest of us won't have any choice but to come to them on their terms, or else gamble that our children will grow up gibbering idiots." In spite of himself, Boone shuddered. Terral kept on talking: "The production records tell the story. They say that chandak's in short supply--so short that it comes in dribbles. But that report you read doesn't mention any shortage, does it? All it gives is an
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