"Didn't you learn at school," the bartender interrupted, "that the state of Wildoatia is the safety valve for United Stars? The people who go there voluntarily--and the ones who are sent there--don't _want_ to live under a decent government. They're incorrigibles who hate and abominate a peaceful, well-ordered civilization. They want to sow their wild oats--to rob, steal, commit murder and do as they damned well please. Maybe they'll--some of them--become good citizens eventually if we leave them alone--give them a chance to grow up. The growth of the Underground suggests that that may happen. On the other hand, if you use outside force to destroy Wildoatia, you upset the whole apple cart. Where, let me ask you, do you send the Incorrigibles? If you don't deport 'em, in no time at all they'd be raising hob on Earth and Mars the way they did before the Cooperative Commonwealth was set up. That wouldn't be pretty, would it?" "Of course Venus is the only place to exile fascists, crooks, and plain damn fools," Frank agreed as he signalled for his pie, "but why let them run the whole show up there? Oh, you'll spout that that's their most fitting punishment ... to have a free rein to chew each other up. But what if the Big Shots get strong enough to defy United Stars? You should see them strut and goose step when they visit Venusport. They may have no space ships, but I tell you they're up to something devilish." He shoved his plate away, tossed a five-credit note across the bar and got up. "It must be about blasting-off time. I'd better be getting into my strait-jacket." "You've plenty of time. The mail packet from Mars has to come in before you can leave. I won't have another customer until then." The bartender removed his apron. "Come on. I'll walk you around the dome." * * * * * As soon as they left the cafe, Frank had the uncomfortable feeling that he had shrunk to pigmy size. The metal hemisphere which served as way station for all ships travelling between planets was a quarter of a mile in diameter. The few grease monkeys moving about its vast floor were almost lost among landing cradles and other pieces of machinery. "This certainly is the mountain that labored and brought forth a mouse," Sage grumbled. "It's been a hundred years since the first trip was made to the Moon and we're still hanging on here by our eye-lashes. For every ship that blasts off from Moon Station for Mars or Venus, ten robot freighters have to stagger up from Earth with fuel and supplies for it." "Plutonium's not good enough," agreed Tom, who had flown space ships in his time. "Fission just can't supply enough power to make interplanetary travel pay. Fact is, if the Moon weren't here, we'd still be earthbound." "Um! Think of all the trade that could go on if ships could carry worthwhile payloads. I suppose they'd have closed Moon Base long ago, except for the U 235 which is exported by Wildoatia."