Skilk;
Colonel Cheng-Li, our intelligence man there, teleprinted us back a
lot of material on them that looks like the Newgate Calendar. We
turned the letters themselves over to Doc Petrie, the Ulleran
philology sharp, who is a pretty fair cryptanalyst. He couldn't find
any indications of cipher, but there was a lot of gossip about
Keeluk's friends and parishioners which might have arbitrary
code-meanings. I'm going to explain the situation to Miss Quinton, and
advise her to have nothing to do with any of the people Keeluk gave
her letters to."

Harrington had gotten his king temporarily out of danger, losing a
piece doing it.

"Think she'll listen to you?" he asked. "These Extraterrestrials'
Rights Association people are a lot of blasted fanatics, themselves.
We're a gang of bloody-handed, flint-hearted, imperialistic sons of
bitches in their book, and anything we say's sure to be a Hitler-sized
lie."

"Oh, they're not as bad as all that. I never met the girl before
today, but old Mohammed Ferriera's a decent bloke. And their
association's really done a lot of good. For one thing, they put an
end to the peonage system on Yggdrasill, and I know what conditions
were like, there, before they did."

A calculating look came into Harrington's eye. He puffed slowly at his
pipe and slid a piece from the center toward the sector of the board
nearest him. Blount whistled softly and made a quick re-arrangement.

"Carlos, did you say she told you she was going to Skilk, in the near
future?" Harrington asked. "Well, look here; you're going up that way,
yourself, with that battalion of Kragans, on the _Aldebaran_. Why
don't you invite her to make the trip with you? You can be quite
attractive to young ladies, when you try, and she'll be grateful for
that rescue this afternoon, which is always a good foundation. Maybe
you can plant a couple of ideas where they'll do the most good. She's
only been here for three months--since the _Canberra_ got in from
Niflheim. You know and I know and we all know that there are a lot of
things up there at the polar mines that would look like hell to
anybody who didn't understand local conditions...."

"Well, Miss Quinton's company won't be any particularly heavy cross
for me to bear," von Schlichten replied. "I won't guarantee anything,
of course...."

The intercom-speaker on the table whistled several times. Harrington
swore, laid down his pipe, and got up, brushing ashes from the front