Fifty credits for a shipload. Three shiploads a year. Hell, give 'em the benefit of the doubt and say _ten_ shiploads a year. In a hundred years, they'd add another fifty thousand to Earth's resources. McLeod grinned. And waited. * * * * * They came for him, eventually, as McLeod had known they would. But they came long before he had expected. He had given them six months at the least. They came for him at the end of the third month. It was Jackson, of course. It would have to be Jackson. He walked into the cheap little room McLeod had rented, followed by his squad of men. He tossed a peculiar envelope on the bed next to McLeod. "Letter came for you, humorist. Open it." McLeod sat on the edge of the bed and read the letter. The envelope had already been opened, which surprised him none. It looked very much like an ordinary business letter--except that whatever they used for paper was whiter and tougher than the paper he used. He was reminded of the time he had seen a reproduction of a Thirteenth Century manuscript alongside the original. The copy had been set up in a specially-designed type and printed on fine paper. The original had been handwritten on vellum. McLeod had the feeling that if he used a microscope on this letter the lines and edges would be just as precise and clear as they appeared to the naked eye, instead of the fuzziness that ordinary print would show. The way you tell a synthetic ruby from a natural ruby is to look for flaws. The synthetic doesn't have any. This letter was a Galactic imitation of a Terran business letter. It said: Dear Mac, I am happy to report that your book, "Interstellar Ark," is a smash hit. It looks as though it is on its way to becoming a best seller. As you already know by your royalty statement, over a billion copies were sold the first year. That indicates even better sales over the years to come as the reputation of the book spreads. Naturally, our advertising campaign will remain behind it all the way. Congratulations. Speaking of royalty checks, there seems to be some sort of irregularity about yours. I am sorry, but according to regulations the check must be validated in the presence of your Galactic Resident before it can be cashed. Your signature across the back of it doesn't mean anything to our bankers. Just go to your Galactic Resident, and he'll be happy to take care of the matter for you. That's what he's there for. The next check should come through very shortly. All the best, Clem. [Illustration] _Better and better_, McLeod thought. He hadn't expected to be able to do anything until his next royalty check arrived. But now-- He looked up at Jackson. "All right. What's next?" "Come with us. We're flying to Hawaii. Get your hat and coat."