"I can't say that I'm glad to hear it. However...." The lawyer shrugged. "Let's make it that I'll see you when your ship gravs down at the Cartel's Thelema headquarters base on Mars tomorrow." "Good enough." "Till tomorrow, then...." Already, the lawyer's face was fading. * * * * * Tomorrow. To Boone, it seemed that the hours dragged on beyond measure. Yet then, when at last the new day had come, he found himself almost regretful--dreading the things he knew that it must bring; fighting down an ever-growing tension. Because he knew in his heart that he wasn't going to take it. Not with Eileen's life perhaps at stake; not with Hyperion's ice-shell beckoning. Somewhere, somehow, he'd find a way.... There was a final routine with the medmen. They pronounced him sound, turned him over to the guards. Then the ship slowed, hovered. Gravving down through the great Thelema airlocks, it settled to the ramp. Flanked by two guards, Boone strode from the lift-shaft. Schilling stood outside. Coolly, he extended documents to Boone's captors. "A temporary order for release of your prisoner to my custody for pre-hearing consultation, gentlemen." The guard in charge checked through the papers, then stepped back. "He's all yours, Mister." Schilling led the way to a surface carrier without speaking. Boone eyed him curiously. "How does it look?" The lawyer leaned back, and the carrier slid smoothly into motion. "Frankly, I don't like it. Krobis wants blood. He's come in all the way from Ganymede himself, instead of sending a deposition or testifying on the com-box; and he's persuaded the Cartel to try you before a general board so that you can be discharged from the service, with release to the Federation for criminal action if you're convicted." "So it's double trouble." Boone smiled wryly. "I might have expected that from Krobis." "You're not convicted yet," retorted Schilling. "Besides, I got that release order so you'd have a chance to talk with someone who's in a spot to help you." "Terral?" The lawyer nodded and brought the carrier to a halt beside a building. "You'll find him in my office, there. I'll drop back later." It was Boone's turn to nod. He got out and went into the building. And there was Terral--lean, grey, shrewd-eyed Terral, the man empowered to speak for Associated Independents. He gripped Boone's hand. "Glad to see you, man--even though the circumstances could be better." "Oh, I don't know." Boone held face and voice alike noncommittal. "Anyhow, thanks for getting Schilling." "You're wondering why, of course." Terral's lips drew thin. "Believe me, it wasn't altruism, Boone; not one bit of it." Boone frowned. "Maybe I just don't understand." "You will," the other clipped. And then: "Boone, how much do you know about Titan fever?" "Titan fever--?" Boone shook his head. "Not too much." "Are you aware that it's reached the epidemic stage on half-a-dozen satellites and planets?"