"Did you ever get the answer to what she was after on Greenhaven?" "Nothing, just passing through!" Parrish snapped his fingers in contempt. "She was on a space liner enroute to Altair VII to gather material for a book. It stopped on Greenhaven to deliver a consignment of laboratory instruments." "Those Greenies," Lydman put in, "are as crazy as bems. What a way to live!" "They _have_ been described as the bluest colony ever derived from Terra," agreed Smith. "I shudder to think of the life Pete would lead there." Parrish smiled, but not very deeply. "Miss Ringstad's mistake was fairly simple-minded," he said. "They had official prices posted in that shop she visited for souvenirs. When they claimed to be out of the article she fancied, she had the bad taste to offer a bonus price. On Greenhaven, this is regarded as bribery, immorality, and economic subversion, to touch merely upon the highlights." Smith sighed. "Why will these young girls run around doing--" "I don't believe you could call her a girl, exactly," Parrish interrupted. "Well, this lady, then...." "I wouldn't guarantee that either." Smith shrugged and pursed his lips. "You'd be a better judge than I," he admitted innocently. "I yield to superior qualifications." Lydman grinned. Parrish maintained his mask. "I suppose that might make it even more dangerous for her," Smith went on. "I forget what you said the sentence was, but suppose she starts to get smart in jail. Would any snappy Terran humor pass there?" "By no means!" said Parrish emphatically. "I would not expect them to burn her at the stake in this day and age, but they _would_ talk about it as being one of the good old ways. Fortunately, their speaking and writing Terran makes this easy. Terrans are all black sinners, but plenty of Terrans are necessary around the spaceports. We keep a few agents among them. One of them is going to pull the paper trick to spring her." "I'd rather leave them a bomb," said Lydman, almost to himself. Smith frequently wondered that such a rugged man should speak in so quiet a voice. At times, Lydman used a monotone that was barely audible. "We hope to destroy all evidence," added Parrish. "Otherwise, it will lead to the usual diplomatic notes, and the D.I.R. will be telling us we never were authorized to do any such thing." "Yes," said Smith, nodding wearily. "Actually, you couldn't find our specific duties written down anywhere; and there is _nothing_ we are forbidden to do either--as long as it succeeds. Well, none of us will see the day when the D.I.R. will publicly recognize us to the extent of chopping our heads into the basket. They _have_ been yapping at me, though, for drawing complaints in the Gerson case." Lydman had been sitting with his gaze narrowed upon a pencil gripped in his big fists. Now he raised his head, scenting interference in his own project. "How can the Yoleenites complain? They claim they don't even have Gerson!"