The position they had been scourged from by a relentless political regime which had smashed the Unterzuyders' fabulous tri-planet cartels, leaving the remnants in the form of a thousand rigidly controlled small holding companies. The position they had been forced to flee from, leaving only their children--and a hidden map. Unterzuyder's fingers still shook. Sweat dribbled down his blonde hair-line. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong. The map itself was hideously out of scale. The traced orbits of the planets were circular, _not_ elliptical. And the map itself. _I should not have found it so easily_. Counter-intrigue? No time to lose. From his inside pocket, he took the flat little duplico-camera, adjusted the frame over the map. He flipped the shutter. Seconds later, the map was back exactly where he'd taken it from. There was only one sound in this quiet room, the tremor of the gas-thrust shoving the ship through dark void into the spaces beyond Jupiter. Suddenly, there was the scuffle of moving feet beyond the door. * * * * * Unterzuyder found himself in the position of a traveler in an alien city where savage little children had switched all the street signs. Nonetheless, he lunged for the door, threw off the lights in the stateroom, opened the door, closed it, stood with his back pressed against it. Hurrying footsteps. Unterzuyder was after the sound. The big, hurrying frame of Captain Foshag. Unterzuyder grabbed his arm, whipped him around. Foshag's hairy, dignified face was wrenched with astonishment. "Mr. Straley," he said uncertainly. His brow clouded. He looked at Unterzuyder's grip on his heavy arm and frowned with displeasure. He shook off the hand. "I'm not used to being manhandled, sir! You've perhaps imbibed too much at the party?" He was being sternly insulting. Unterzuyder crumbled. He could be wrong. "I--haven't been well. My heart--" He touched at his chest apologetically. It wasn't too far from the truth. Pains in his chest. His mother had always assured him the Unterzuyders were prone to heart trouble. Just as she'd got around to making him wear glasses. Terrible uncertainties were crowding him. He was surrounded by treachery. Had Foshag been shadowing him? Foshag's great frame rocked judicially on its toes. "If you truly have a bad heart," he said measuredly, "you'd have taken the long trail when the _Ares_ hit heaven. We humans often are plagued with strange influences. Words spoken to the unguarded mind of the child sometimes become fact to the grownup. I'd not worry about the heart. And now, the reason I am away from the turret. I've been looking for you."