riches for us, incredible riches. But I'll call on you later this evening, if you don't mind. We'll be alone at my home, and we can work out a number of things."
The prim brunette beside the Mayor made a moue.
The memory of Mayor Rodrigues' smile lingered long after the trio of women had driven away.
* * *
"You know, Captain Slade," said Snipes, the ship's tall, bearded Administrative Officer, "I really respect you."
Slade put down the laser pencil. He had just completed soldering the final lead to a post on the non-functioning commo unit. Slade's palms were sweaty. It scared the bleeding cop out of him to work with electrical blasting caps. Even before they were inserted in the block of high explosive, they could shatter your hands or your eyes if something went wrong. And the one poor bastard Slade remembered, the fellow who had three caps in a front pocket of his trousers at the spaceport on Friesland . . . A maintenance crew had switched on a Transit generator for testing. The powerful field induced enough of a