Kendall shook his head. "I don't intend to import the stuff to Earth; I'm just stopping over here until I can get some very important business cleared up. But _valdone_ is a dangerous drug, and I simply wanted to report the fact that I have a hundred kilograms of it aboard my ship." "I see," said the official, making a note on a minipad. "We'll have to put a seal on the ship until you are ready to take off again." "That's perfectly all right," Kendall agreed. Anything would have been all right, as long as it didn't take much of the precious time remaining before dawn. The official extended his hand. "Your papers, please." Kendall reached inside his jacket pocket for the small booklet of identification papers. An icy shiver ran down his back. The booklet was gone. "What's the matter?" the official asked. "My ID booklet is gone! I put it in my jacket just before I left the ship; I must have lost it on my way over here." "If that's the case, someone will return it," the Customs official said. "It's of no use to anyone else. We'll send out a call for it. Meanwhile, I'm afraid you'll have to remain inside the spaceport." Kendall scowled. Of all the lousy time-wasting pieces of red-tape, he thought. He felt trapped by bureaucracy. He didn't have time to waste hanging around the spaceport tonight. "We'll also ask for confirmation over the subradio," said the official. "What is your home planet?" "Rastol III, near Deneb." "Very well. Even if we don't find your ID booklet, we can give you a temporary pass if you are identified from Rastol by subradio." Stone felt a cold trickle of perspiration forming on his forehead. "That's going to take nearly twenty-four hours," he objected. "Isn't there a faster way?" The official shook his head and shrugged, the timeless gesture of all bureaucrats. "I'm afraid not. Not unless we find your ID booklet." * * * * * Like a caged tiger, Kendall Stone paced the administration area of the spaceport for an hour, hoping doggedly that the ID booklet would turn up somewhere out on the field. But an hour later, there was still no sign of the booklet, and Stone felt himself growing desperate. The glowing ball of Sol had already set behind the western horizon. Night had fallen--the night whose end would bring the death of Galth of Rastol and of a thousand innocent, unsuspecting colonists. Stone stared at the polychrome hues of the sunset for a long minute, clenched his fists, and made his decision; there was only one thing to do. He strolled quietly around the spaceport, looking for a way out. There were none which were unguarded; Earth didn't like unwanted or unauthorized colonists sneaking in on them. Finally, he chose one of the smaller gates at random and walked up to the guard. The sign over the gate said: OFFICIAL PERSONNEL ONLY.