"Captain, you look _so_ lonely and disconsolate sitting by yourself. Won't you join me?" It was a woman's voice, low and casual. Glayne was briefly startled--he had expected that his contact would be a man. Then it occurred to him that she was not his contact, but that doubt vanished when he remembered that he had discarded his uniform for the light grey business jumper of a young business executive. How could she know him for a Captain in the Stellar Guardians unless she was his contact? On the other hand, she had not made herself known with the code which had been selected beforehand. Puzzled and suspicious, he flicked the transmitter stud and said cautiously: "Where are you?" "You can't miss me, darling," she replied. "Just stand up." Glayne hesitated, hefting the heavy, comforting weight of the Cardy blaster under his arm-pit. With a shrug he tossed off the remnants of the blue-green _borse_ which stirred lambently in the exquisite goblet. Then he stood up. She was perfectly correct. He couldn't miss her from ten light years, much less thirty feet. She was tall and graceful in a tailored green jumper which half suggested, half concealed the long, smooth curves of her young body. She had coppery red hair and wide-set green eyes that smiled boldly at him. She rested a hand on her hip in mock impatience. "Well, don't just stand there, fat-head!" she cried across the tables. "What do you usually do when you haven't seen someone for years and years?" With an effort Glayne collected himself, assayed a weak smile, and maneuvered around the tables to her side. "Oh, you look perfectly gorgeous," she said, oblivious to the amused people around her. "Dance with me--you always were a divine dancer. You know, I was telling Jani just today how I wished you'd come for a visit--we haven't seen you for such a long time...." She prattled gaily on. Somewhat dazed, Glayne led her to the resilient dance floor, an absurdity which had suddenly become the very latest rage overnight. The girl slipped smoothly into his arms, her fragrant, perfumed hair under his chin. He wasn't at all prepared for the hard tones of her voice when she said: "I regret to inform you, Captain Glayne, that the agent you were supposed to meet here is dead. He had an unfortunate accident with a Cardy gun." Glayne stiffened perceptibly. "Who did it?" "Probably Delban espionage. They know that something is in the fire and they're not wearing kid gloves to find out what it is." "Did they discover the identity of the person he was supposed to meet?" "No," she replied. "But they're looking. Fortunately the organization was not in the dark as to whom he would meet. Otherwise I could never have found you."