"4. No such mutative effect is evident in cases treated with chandak extract or their offspring. "On the basis of available data, therefore, it is considered urgent that all cases of Titan fever developing among Interplanetary Cartels personnel or their families be given prompt treatment with chandak extract. "All base administrative chiefs are explicitly made responsible for seeing that such treatment is carried out as directed." Stiff-fingered, Boone closed the folder. Again, his eyes met Terral's. The lean man's face had grown bleak as Mars' windswept deserts. "Do you know what it's going to mean when that report gets out?" "I can imagine." "Can you? I wonder." The other raised a clenched fist; shook it. "Boone, it means a Cartel-dominated solar system, the end of human freedom! IC's got a monopoly on chandak and they intend to hold it, Federation or no Federation. The rest of us won't have any choice but to come to them on their terms, or else gamble that our children will grow up gibbering idiots." In spite of himself, Boone shuddered. Terral kept on talking: "The production records tell the story. They say that chandak's in short supply--so short that it comes in dribbles. But that report you read doesn't mention any shortage, does it? All it gives is an order--a flat directive to see that all IC's people are protected." * * * * * Wearily, Boone nodded. "All right. You've sold me. Now tell me just how I fit in. What am I supposed to do?" "Good!" The other slapped Boone's shoulder. "As to what you do, it's the same proposition that we talked about at Gandor City. The thing we're buying is your training. There's an Independent ship ramped in the main port, ready to grav-off. It's equipped for mekronal production. You take it out and find some Helgae." Boone's heart leaped. "You mean--I break and run? I don't stand trial?" "That's why we had Schilling get that release order." The room seemed suddenly distorted. Boone paced the floor to hide his shaking. He'd left Eileen on far Hyperion, a prisoner of the Helgae. No, in spite of all Krobis' machinations, fate had thrown him a wild gambler's chance to reach her. Terral's voice drummed at him: "That order cost us, Boone. Who cares, though, if it breaks the Cartel? Sure, you'll be a fugitive for awhile. But you'll be safe so long as nobody thinks to tie you in with us, and we can smooth the whole business over once we get our own source of mekronal and chandak...." Pushing his jumbled thoughts aside, Boone pivoted. "What are we waiting for? Let's get started." "Already?" Terral chuckled dryly. "Slow down! This is going to take a little doing." He bent over the desk, scribbled swiftly on a note-pad, and then straightened. "Take this to the manager at Triangle Freight. Hot as you are, we're going to have to crate you up and send you out onto the ramp as cargo." "Right." Boone slipped the scrawl into his pocket. "I'll be on my way, then."