"For God, for Country, and for Transolar, huh?" I said, watching the blood leave his face. "Now why should I help you pull your fat contracts out of the fire? What's it to me if a bunch of technicians don't get their damn fuel? The stuff'd be worth plenty to either Thorsten or the Marties. Living in the Asteroids isn't fun--I've done it, and it takes power to maintain a bubble. Believe me, they'll throw everything they've got to keep a ship carrying a pile charge from making it past them." I must have sounded pretty nasty about it, because Weidmann actually yanked that murderous motorized artificial arm out of his pocket. He pulled up his shoulders and looked at me like I was something floating down a sewer, but he kept his voice even. "All right, Ash. Ten thousand, plus expenses. You'll be given a new kind of ship. It's a model we picked up from a manufacturer who had his contract cancelled by the TSN. She was originally designed for armed reconnaissance, and we've installed the weapons called for in the original specifications. She'll outfly anything with jets on it, and stand off a cruiser, given room to maneuver. Does that soothe you, or do you want a convoy, too?" he added scornfully. I lit a cigarette and pretended to think it over. Actually, of course, I was going to take the job. I would have, anyway, but there were two additional reasons why I wouldn't turn it down. There was Pat, of course, and her orders. Most important though, had been the fact that the message to report to Weidmann that I'd found in my mailbox at the Spacemen's Hiring Hall had borne a slightly different Post Office cancellation on the stamp than the usual. The "T" in United wasn't quite formed the way it was on the regular stamp. It wasn't apparent unless you looked for it--but it was as good as a big red sign that spelled out "Official United Terrestrial Government Business--Act as Directed Within," because that was what it meant. "Sounds better than I expected," I admitted. "All right. When do I go?" Weidmann didn't show any expression to indicate disappointment or satisfaction. He simply said, "Tonight, after we check over the details. The ship's equipped with standard TSN controls, and you'll have lots of time to test her flight characteristics once you get out in space." "What happens if she explodes? Don't I get to test her first?" "No--there isn't time, and it would be a dead giveaway." For the first time, I saw something like satisfaction on Weidmann's face. "And if she explodes ... well, frankly, Holcomb, that's your problem." * * * * * I spent the afternoon being briefed. One thing was off my mind--if I had official orders to take this job, then the SBI would be keeping a tab on me. It made a difference, knowing that no matter what kind of a mess I got into, somebody would at least know what had happened to me, and, most important, why.