Len shook his head. "No joke, Pop; I'm dead serious. We're going to take a cargo into hyperspace. To the mem--the mem--oh, hell, I can't pronounce it--the queen, I guess, of Ferr. That's one of their planets. She wants Earth stuff, she says, and she promises to do right by us if we bring it to her. Sounds like a good deal." * * * * * The silence thickened as the two men face each other. At last Schiemann got up. "Look, Lennie, I don't make out I'm a saint. I've smuggled and cheated and stolen. But this I will not do. For the laws of the Federation, I don't give a damn--men made 'em and men can break 'em--but to go against the laws of nature, that is a different thing." He turned on his heel and went out of the control room. Len went to his cabin and began to pack his gear. As he had expected, Schiemann interrupted him when he was halfway through. "What do you think you're doing?" "Leaving," Len said. "I'm sick of small-time operations." "Leaving me? Just like that? Does our friendship mean nothing at all to you?" "Sure it does," Len told him. "When I get a chance, I'll write." The old man's face crumpled. "Look, Lennie, if we did move into one of the more important sectors, maybe--" "You know we wouldn't have a chance there," Len said harshly, to conceal his true emotions. "The sectors closer in to Earth have bigger, faster ships, and bigger, tougher men to run 'em. And they wouldn't like us trying to jet in!" "I'd rather take a chance on that than--" "We wouldn't _have_ a chance; it'd just be a massacre, with us on the receiving end. The only way we can break into the big time ourselves is through hyperspace. We've got to do what's never been done before." That wasn't quite true, from what the xhindi had told him, but near enough. It had been done before, but not very often, and not very recently. However, it had been done, so it was possible to do. Otherwise he wouldn't think of chancing it ... or would he? "Why do you want money so much, Lennie?" Schiemann asked. "What do we need the big-time stuff for? It's nice and quiet and practically secure the way you've got things running for us, almost like we were honest businessmen. So why go looking for trouble?" "If I'd wanted a quiet life," Len said, "I'd have stuck with the _Perseus_. So don't sing me security." The hand that held the pipe was trembling. "Look, Lennie, at least give me time to think." "Okay," Len said. He was, in his way, fond of the old man, but there were bigger things at stake. He had to have Lyddy; he had to have money; he had to have ... something he couldn't put a name to, but desperately important nonetheless. "I'll give you six months." * * * * * At the end of half a year, Schiemann said no, he positively wouldn't do it. Len said "Good-by." Schiemann said, "All right, but you'll be sorry; we'll all be sorry," and gave in.