more, gracious hosts. We herewith
grant conditional permission for all spaceports,
landing pads and mooring towers, and their
associated technical accoutrements and equipment,
to remain open to UIPS traffic. This conditional
permission is granted providing qualified UIPS
technicians and administrators under the oversight
of Plutonian citizens staff these facilities. The
Plutonian overseers will be afforded training by
the UIPS to qualify them to assume the primary's
operational and management responsibilities in all
functions within two Earth years from the date of
this Proclamation. The Government of Planet Pluto,
as sovereign, will provide for station security and
will exercise oversight and offer guidance through
its appointed administrators.

"The Government of Planet Pluto hereby levies
an inventory tax on all materials and products
arriving in Plutonian territories from the UIPS.
The tax base includes all raw materials, partial
and fully fabricated structures, technical
equipment, and components thereof which are or
yet to be committed to Slingshot. The Slingshot
Logistics Depot, which occupies space within
Plutonian jurisdiction, and all UIPS cargo
transports entering Plutonian space, are subject
to this inventory tax.

"Our inventory tax is merely an extension of
the passage tax on ships intruding on INOR's
jurisdictions and which is currently being
negotiated by the UIPS and INOR governments.
We anticipate the successful completion to
these negotiations.

"This Decree is in effect. Your cooperation is
welcomed."

##

Drummer released the lower end of the scroll
and watched it curl up. He finished rolling the
document, bound it with a ribbon, and tucked it
into his sleeve. He stood silent, eyes on Narval.

Narval rose as he spoke slowly, his tone
disdainful. "I suggest that you communicate with
your Governments concerning my message to
President Camari. Add my expression of trust
that they appreciate the advantages of presenting
a common front."

Waddling toward the door, he beckoned Drummer
to follow.

Chapter FIFTEEN

Narval slouched back into his overstuffed chair.
Drummer faced him from across the enormous
ebony-composite desk.

Bringing his hand close, Narval searched for a
fingernail that demanded his attention.

"President Camari must accept that we have the
military forces to impose our will on Slingshot,"
he said, momentarily shifting his eyes to Drummer.
"If h