"You'd give me a buzz?" "Perhaps." Castlebottom returned to the room, puffing with bureaucratic vigor. "Here are your credentials, Petrie," he said, handing Bill a metallic IWG diplomatic pass. "There's a Patrol cruiser waiting." Bill took one look at Kitty Carlton and tossed the pass back upon the desk. "I'm not going!" he said. "Not going!" Castlebottom exploded. "But the fuel crisis, man!" "Get someone else. I said I'm staying. I'm working my way up to head a monopoly." "You!" Castlebottom turned purple. "Yeah, me. I'll think my way up. That's more than you ever did." Castlebottom looked very threatening for a second. He clenched and unclenched his hands spasmodically, finally stabbing a pudgy finger at a pushbutton on his desk. He had the look of a conqueror as he stared toward the door. Bill pivoted in time to see the three Monopoly Building policemen charge in. Each one was built on the order of an eight-gun space-destroyer and the result was about as devastating. Bill got in one sharp jab but a moment later the three destroyers carried him out. Bill's sandy hair was a bit mussed. His good-natured mouth was clamped tightly on a trickle of blood and the rest of his body felt like strenuously whipped eggs. "Freebooter!" That was the last thing he heard Castlebottom saying. "Take him down to the cruiser." * * * * * Bill was in no condition to appreciate the next few days. He sensed the wallowing of the IWP Cruiser as it hit difficult gravs and felt his ears dulled by the hollow drumming of the rocket pumps. Sometimes a mess-boy brought in food but more often, icepacks. Between icepacks, Bill figured a dozen ways of evening the score with Commissioner Castlebottom. The plans were all very good, but with one exception. The next day, the Patrol Cruiser hovered over a planetoid surface described by astronomers as Uva. Castlebottom was back on Earth. A Junior Officer ferried Bill from the Cruiser to the planetoid in a small auxiliary plane. "We'll pick you up in fifty hours," said the officer. "Why will it be that long?" asked Bill. "It'll take that long. You don't know the Uvans." Bill made a wry face. "Why don't you come down and wait?" "Can't," replied the officer noncommittally. "There's only one Interworld Government pass for landing on Uva. You've got it now. Even the Patrol is only allowed to land in cases of extreme emergency. They're strict about that. No visitors allowed." The tiny plane settled quietly in what appeared to be the suburb of the only city on Uva. Bill dropped to the ground and breathed deeply of the somewhat muggy, compressed atmosphere of the little planetoid. "The American Commissioner's place is straight up this street," said the officer. "So long!" He waved good-by and gunned the plane away. Bill watched it climb for a second, then turned, marching briskly up the street.