Temple Bells was getting plenty of revenge for the shocks he had given her. "I can't? Watch me!" She grinned up at him, her eyes still dancing. "Every chance I get, I'm going to hug your arm like I did a minute ago. And you'll take hold of my forearm, like you did! That can be taken, you see, as either: One, a reluctant acceptance of a mildly distasteful but not quite actionable situation, or: Two, a blocking move to keep me from climbing up you like a squirrel!" "Confound it, Temple, you _can't_ be serious!" "Can't I?" She laughed gleefully. "Especially with half a dozen of those other cats watching? Just wait and see, boss!" Sandra and her two guests came aboard. The natives looked around; the man at the various human men, the woman at each of the human women. The woman remained beside Sandra; the man took his place at Hilton's left, looking up--he was a couple of inches shorter than Hilton's six feet one--with an air of ... of _expectancy_! "Why this arrangement, Sandy?" Hilton asked. "Because we're tops. It's your move, Jarve. What's first?" "Uranexite. Come along, Sport. I'll call you that until ..." "Laro," the native said, in a deep resonant bass voice. He hit himself a blow on the head that would have floored any two ordinary men. "Sora," he announced, striking the alien woman a similar blow. "Laro and Sora, I would like to have you look at our uranexite, with the idea of refueling our ship. Come with me, please?" Both nodded and followed him. In the engine room he pointed at the engines, then to the lead-blocked labyrinth leading to the fuel holds. "Laro, do you understand 'hot'? Radioactive?" Laro nodded--and started to open the heavy lead door! "Hey!" Hilton yelped. "That's hot!" He seized Laro's arm to pull him away--and got the shock of his life. Laro weighed at least five hundred pounds! And the guy _still_ looked human! Laro nodded again and gave himself a terrific thump on the chest. Then he glanced at Sora, who stepped away from Sandra. He then went into the hold and came out with two fuel pellets in his hand, one of which he tossed to Sora. That is, the motion looked like a toss, but the pellet traveled like a bullet. Sora caught it unconcernedly and both natives flipped the pellets into their mouths. There was a half minute of rock-crusher crunching; then both natives opened their mouths. The pellets had been pulverized and swallowed. Hilton's voice rang out. "Poynter! How _can_ these people be non-radioactive after eating a whole fuel pellet apiece?" Poynter tested both natives again. "Cold," he reported. "Stone cold. No background even. Play _that_ on your harmonica!" * * * * *