"It's an insult against our racial character!" the foreign minister said severely. "They _know_ we have no use for a bather, shedding our skin as we do once a day." Netath forced restraint into his features. "We will not lose our diplomatic poise. There is always the chance a mistake has been made." He drew the contacter out of his pocket and shouted into its grid, "Miss Yalera?" "Yes, sir?" came the instant answer. "Take a space-o-gram to Solaria." II When the initial error was made at the hyper-spatial relay station, a pattern had been set. Committed categorically to the memory banks were the false associations between the State Department's Ganymede Extension and Potentate McWorther, between Premier Netath and Rear-Sobucks. Thus, it was somewhat to be expected that Undersecretary Hoverly should find himself chewing on the under-bristles of his mustache as he read the latest space-o-gram. Dear Sir: Needless to say, we are somewhat disappointed over the Western Cluster's meager response to our desperate need. Perhaps Ambassador Summerson misrepresented our agreement. In that event, we feel sure that consultation with his Excellency will set the record straight. We would appreciate prompt attention to this detail. Otherwise, in the interest of our people, we shall feel compelled to seek satisfaction elsewhere. Respectfully yours, Titus McWorther, Potentate Hoverly tossed the message on his desk, punched the audio-com button and called for his assistant. When Mallston arrived, the undersecretary was still pacing. "Did you take care of the McWorther World aid consignment?" he asked. Mallston nodded. "Delivery should have been made day before yesterday. Full Class A schedule." "Well, it wasn't enough!" Hoverly extended a stiff finger toward the space-o-gram. "Read that." Looking up finally, Mallston said, "Evidently we dropped the ball." "Indeed we did. Ambassador Summerson must have promised the Potentate the whole works." Hoverly resumed pacing. "I should have guessed as much. President Roswell only last week hinted that the Western Cluster should level its galactic commerce sights on that entire sector." Mallston pondered the gravity of the space-o-gram. "Maybe we should lay the McWorther development before the President." Bristling, the undersecretary said, "And call attention to our own incompetence? We'll straighten this matter out by doing what we should have done in the first place--by putting the Potentate on the double-A priority list. Full and immediate delivery under Class B through K schedules." Mallston started out, but paused at the door. "How about cultural exchange?" "We'll play it safe by assuming Summerson shot the works in that category too. Round up every uncommitted cultural group in the cluster." * * * * *