It was a relief to Monk to shed the heavy space-suit in the air-filled room. And it was a revelation, for with helmet and boots removed, he found himself almost floating with each step he took, moving feather-light over the ground. He was surprised, and a little unnerved at first, but then he remembered that this feeble gravitation was the preserver of his health--and he laughed aloud. "Something funny?" said the man at the front desk. He was a young man, about thirty, but there was an ageless competence in his features. Monk smiled. "Just feeling good, that's all." He patted the brown leather bag in his hand. "Name?" "Well, it will be listed as Wheeler...." The official scanned the list. "Here it is. Ben Wheeler." He looked up at Monk curiously. "How old are you, Mr. Wheeler?" "Fifty," said Monk. "Pretty old for the Colony, aren't you, Mr. Wheeler?" Monk smirked. "The first thing we have to do is get rid of that Wheeler business, young man. My name is Monk. Fletcher Monk." The official looked puzzled. "I don't get it. Why the phoney name?" "I used an alias for reasons of my own. Now I'm telling you my real name. Monk." The man shrugged and wrote something on the manifest. "I don't expect you to cheer," said Monk sarcastically. "But you could show some reaction." "What does that mean?" Monk flushed. "Don't tell me you've never heard of me. I'm _Fletcher Monk_. I _own_ half of this place." "So?" "What do you mean 'so?' My firm controls thirty percent of the mineral rights of the Colony. We ship you practically all of your Earth supplies. We can buy or sell this place at the drop of a quotation!" "Listen, bud." The young man seemed annoyed. "If you're trying to impress me, forget it. And if you're threatening my job, you can take it!" "Insolence!" Monk raged. "Who's your commanding officer? I want to see him right away!" "My pleasure," the official grinned. "Hey, Gregorio!" he called to the man at the desk behind him. "Call Captain Moore. Gentleman here wants a word with him." * * * * * Monk took a seat while the other passengers went through the initial formalities. He sat there, fuming, until a tall man with an untrimmed beard entered the room. He took off his helmet and spoke briefly to the young man at the front desk, then looked over at Monk and came to his side. "Mr. Monk?" he said. "I'm Captain Moore." "Nice to meet you, Captain. I've just had a little conversation with your official greeter." He smiled, man-to-man. "Not a very friendly chap." "We forget a lot about manners up here," said the captain, not smiling back. "We're kept pretty busy." * * * * * "I realize that, of course," said the industrialist. "But I would expect a little common courtesy--"