"He is _the_ wealthiest," Hrom said. "The richest man is always Minister of Finance. It's only reasonable." Her tone changed. "We're all poor now, since the tourist industry failed. It took every dnot we had to pay for the contract." Invisible antennae shot from Miss Featherpenny's forehead. "You must be quite sure that Planetary Promotions won't fail you." She tried her best to sound casual. Hrom smiled faintly. "Have another of these seed cakes," she said. "Thank you. They are delicious." Miss Featherpenny took one, regardless of calories. "Of course, there is the guarantee clause: 'Double your money back.'" Hrom busily fluffed a cushion. "One must have some insurance," she said, having her turn at sounding casual. "Tell me, are they wearing large or small hats on Earth this season?" Miss Featherpenny conceded defeat. "It's all bonnets for summer," she said. * * * * * Her first impulse was to tell Andy that she thought the Felicians had bought the guarantee clause, not the contract. It died at her first sight of the morning-after Andy. The situation must be pretty desperate, she rationalized, when the wealthiest girl on the planet has only one dress. This is probably their last chance. Andy tried to conceal his headache by being brisk and efficient. "Have you considered your natural resources?" Blahrog, slow and shrewdly inefficient, said, "We mine soft coal. Enough for our own fires and to spare." "No one within a hundred light-years of Felix II uses coal for fuel anymore," Andy said gently. "Do you have enough for the plastic industries?" "We have four freighters surplus every season." Blahrog was evidently banking heavily on the coal. Andy wondered if coal were the only surplus on Felix II. "What are you doing with your surplus at present?" he inquired tactfully, hoping that Blahrog would realize, without being told, the impossibility of supporting the population of Felix II on four freighters of soft coal. "We store it up," was the crafty answer, "and sell it to the synthetics plants on Darius IV when the Ionian miners go on strike." "How long since the Ionians struck?" If this economic event occurred regularly, the coal surplus could assist in meeting the Federation's requirements. "Twenty seasons or so." Blahrog's tone was off-handed, but his eyes slid guiltily toward Andy and away again. Andy sighed. "Any other resources?" They went quickly through minerals, agricultural products and animal skins; established that Felicians could not teleport, levitate or read minds. They were technologically uneducated, and had no industry on the factory-system level. "It is coal or nothing, Mr. Stephens," Blahrog said with finality. "Isn't there some way to make the Federation believe that our coal is superior to other coal, and worth more?" "Do you, perchance, own a sizable proportion of Felician coal reserves?" Blahrog nodded, guilty looking again. "Well, forget it. There isn't enough."