Cramer felt the first cold horror brush his brow like the substanceless touch of the wings of the angel of death, but he managed to stifle his incipient protest. It was more important than ever now that he find out what was being planned. "That _is_ peculiar. I don't know whether it could be called a drug or not." "It isn't one. But a name's not important one way or the other except sometimes for legal purposes. The important point's that here's something without any bad side effects because the body utterly destroys it." He pulled a cylinder from his pocket. It was the smallest deepfreeze unit generally available. "At least 100 cc in dormant _pure_ form inside this cryogenic package." "That's what you were doing on the asteroid, gathering your own private stock!" "Naturally. I saw that the powder lay in the schists and just scraped the stuff in and sealed it up." He patted the insulating ceramic. "Now we're going to see a friend of mine and, if I'm right, we have five millon dollars in the palm of my hand." "Why are you telling me this?" Cramer demanded. "Because it's simpler to have you in on it than on the outside. Not that you'll be able to do anything even if you remain so naively Boy Scoutish about it. Who's going to believe your story at this stage of the game? There's an even better reason why you'll keep quiet, though, but I won't tell you that until later." Cramer was still considering how he might snatch the capsule away when the Captain dropped it back into a self-locking pocket of his suit. The cab had stopped before the sleekest tower on Boulevard Radial. Hartley jumped out, waving for Cramer to follow. The elevator had several other people in it, all of whom eyed the Probationary badge with distaste. Any attempt to subdue Hartley would receive no support from these super-respectables. The two of them got off at the eighty-seventh floor and were ushered into a vast, luxuriously-decorated chamber. About a dozen men and women were scattered about the room, boredly watching a color symphony unfold on one wall. They were all dressed in the sort of highest fashion glitter which evoked as much disgust as amusement among most space workers. But Hartley was obviously not typical of his breed; he enjoyed coming among these people, livening up as soon as he saw them. A tall, blonde man came slowly toward them, wearily rejoicing. "So glad to see you, Hartley. Ah, a Probationary in tow--well, any Probationary is a fellow friend in the kingdom of chaos." Hartley perfunctorily introduced them, then glanced around. "Drinking nectar?" "It kills time, can't do any damage and--I know what you're going to say," he grinned, "it's a bore!" "Well, it is, you should be on to something stronger." "You gone space gaga?" "Not at all, Neilson."