s Chief in the
Hall of Retribution the following morning. Chind, a career man with the
Irwadi Security Forces, did not like his new boss. Garr Symm was no
career man. He knew nothing of police procedure. It was even
rumored--probably based upon solid fact--that Garr Symm liked his brandy
excessively and often found himself under its influence. Worst of
all--after all, a man could understand a desire for drink, even if,
sometimes, it interfered with work--worst of all, Garr Symm was a
scientist, a dome-top in the Irwadi vernacular. And hard-headed Ramar
Chind lost no love on dome-tops.

He saluted crisply and said: "You wanted to see me, sir?"

* * * * *

Garr Symm leaned forward over his desk, making a tent of his scaly green
fingers and peering over it. He said three words. He said: "The
Earthgirl Dennison."

"The Spacer Graveyard," Ramar Chind said promptly. That was an easy one.
His agents had been following the Dennison girl, at Garr Symm's orders.
Ramar Chind did not know why.

"And?" Garr Symm asked.

"The Earthman Ramsey, the Vegan Vardin, both are with her. We can close
in and arrest the lot, sir, any time you wish."

"Fool," Garr Symm said softly, without malice. "That is the last thing I
want. Don't you understand that? No, I guess you don't."

"Yes, sir."

"Their ship?"

"Every morning after they leave we go over it. Still two or three nights
away from completion, sir. Also--" Ramar Chind smiled.

"Yes, what is it?"

"Two or three nights away from completion, except for one thing. They'll
need a fuel supply. Two U-235 capsules rigged for slow implosion, sir.
The hopper of their ship is empty."

"Is there such a fuel supply in the Graveyard?"

"No, sir."

"But could there be?"

"Usually, no. Naturally, the junkers drain out spaceship hoppers before
scrapping them. U-235 in any form brings--"

"I know the value of U-235. Proceed."

"Well, there could be. If they were lucky enough to find such a fuel
supply in one of the wrecks in the Graveyard, they wouldn't be
suspicious. Naturally, we won't put one there."

"But you're wrong, my dear Ramar Chind. You'll load the hopper of one of
those wrecks with enough U-235 for their purposes, and you'll do it
today."

"But sir--"

"We're going to follow them, Chind. You and I. We want them to escape.
If they don't escape, how can we follow them?"

Ramar Chind shrugged resignedly and lisped: "How much fuel will t