Out in the Trojan Position ahead of Venus, the famous Relay Station better known as Venus Equilateral moved in its quiet way. Like Fabriville, Venus Equilateral was self-sufficient. Furthermore, Don Channing had declared a closed corporation, and the three thousand inhabitants of the relay station were all in accord. Business was running low. Yet the salaries went on, even increased, while prices went dropping to ridiculously low levels. With a closed system such as Venus Equilateral, such an artificial economy was possible by mere basic control. The crime angle was nil on Venus Equilateral. With three thousand people living in a cylinder of steel three miles long and a mile in diameter, crime and general nastiness were eradicated by the simple means of making it too hard to conduct anything illegal. The citizens of Venus Equilateral were patriotic to the nth degree. So the situation was less strained than in Fabriville. Though work moved slowly, there was still more than plenty for everyone, and the people were satisfied. They were an unsuspicious lot, and so they did not think it off-color when a small spacecraft of the plutocrat class came circling up to the South End landing stage. The craft landed, and a tall, broad-shouldered man emerged and asked for Channing. He was escorted along a mile of car-way in the outer skin of the Station and then whipped up towards the center of the Station for five hundred feet. He was led along the broad corridor and shown the main office of the Director of Communications. Don Channing's secretary opened the door and said: "A Mr. Laurus Towle to see you, Dr. Channing." Don nodded. Towle entered behind the girl, who introduced him to Don and to Walt Franks. Then she left. And as the door closed, Towle whipped out a revolver and pointed it at Channing. Walt slid forward off his chair and brought the chair around over his head with a single, flowing motion. Towle ducked the thrown chair, faded backwards, and fired at Don. The shot pinged against the steel wall, flaking off some of the plastic covering. Don dropped to the floor, and came up with his wastebasket, which he hurled at Towle. Towle ducked, fended it aside with his left hand, and tried to level the gun again. Walt Franks reached into an open file drawer and grabbed a large handful of papers, which he threw at Towle. They fluttered and filled the air for a moment, which distracted Towle long enough for Channing to leap over the desk. Don and Walt closed on Towle in a high-low tackle, Don jumping at Towle's head and shoulders from the desk top while Franks hit Towle sidewise at the thigh-level in a crashing tackle. They rolled over and over and Towle lost his revolver. The papers were still fluttering to the floor when they came to rest with Towle neatly squelched beneath Channing and Franks. Towle tried to heave them off. Don almost knocked Towle's jaw loose with a stinging backhand slap. "Don't try," snarled Don. "You're mad--right now!"