She faltered, somewhat embarrassed and Mike asked, "In what segment of Orion is this planet located?" "The ninth, sir." Mike leaned forward. "May I assume your trip is of a scientific nature?" "You may, sir." "Then I wonder if you are familiar with the Terran Educational Foundation? I happened to have had contact with them some five years ago." "I'm quite familiar with the organization." "Did it occur to you that they might assume some of the cost of your trip?" "They refused. They make the absurd claim that this planet I spoke of doesn't exist." "But you have proof to the contrary?" "An ancient document," Doree Brandon cut in. "A papyrus scroll. Father translated it." "And the Foundation did not agree with his translation?" "I did not submit the scroll. They know nothing about it." "Father bought it from two men in Paris and worked three years on the translation." Doree looked at her father with great pride. "My reasons for not submitting it were personal," Professor Brandon said, "and are not pertinent to this discussion." "May I suggest," Mike said gently, "that a pair of crooks sold you a counterfeit--" "You may not, sir!" Doree reflected her father's indignation. "I'll have you know my father is the foremost authority in his field!" Mike raised a protective hand. "All right--all right. I'm sorry." "Then perhaps you'll tell us the approximate cost of the cruise?" "I can haul you to the ninth segment and back for around seven thousand but that won't leave much leeway for search." Professor Brandon beamed. "We can just about manage it. And I assure you very little search will be necessary." "If you'll give me the planet's location I'll plot a course and give you an exact figure." "It is not my intention to seem mysterious, but I'd prefer to give you that data after blast-off." * * * * * Mike scowled and half-rose from his chair. Professor Brandon hastily drew a pack of yellow bills from his pocket and laid it on the table. "There are four thousand. I have the rest at the hotel. We shall demonstrate complete faith in you by paying the seven thousand before we leave Outer Port." With that he smiled and arose from his chair. "I guess that concludes our business at this time. We'll be at the hotel when you wish to contact us. Come Doree." He herded the girl out quickly and closed the door. Nicko chuckled. "Smart old codger. He had you pegged dead to rights." Mike turned his scowl on Nicko and snapped, "For Christ's sake, speak Terran!" Nicko had inadvertently used a Plutonian hill dialect he'd heard once, this being the hideous little Martian's amazing talent--an instinctive grasp of all tongues. His lingual talents were a tremendous asset to Mike but at times they drove him crazy because Nicko might absent-mindedly use several different tongues during a conversation; some of which he could not classify himself, having forgotten where he heard them.