lies far beyond the impress of ordinary
Terran law. But the gate stood wide-open, and the guards looked lax and
bored. They had shockers, but they didn't look as if they'd used them
lately.

One raised an eyebrow at his companion as I shambled up. I could pretty
well guess the impression I made, dirty, unkempt and stained with
nonhuman blood. I asked permission to go into the Terran Zone.

They asked my name and business, and I toyed with the notion of giving
the name of the man I was inadvertently impersonating. Then I decided
that if Rakhal had passed himself off as Race Cargill, he'd expect
exactly that. And he was also capable of the masterstroke of
impudence--putting out a pickup order, through Spaceforce, for his own
name!

So I gave the name we'd used from Shainsa to Charin, and tacked one of
the Secret Service passwords on the end of it. They looked at each other
again and one said, "Rascar, eh? This is the guy, all right." He took me
into the little booth by the gate while the other used an intercom
device. Presently they took me along into the HQ building, and into an
office that said "Legate."

I tried not to panic, but it wasn't easy! Evidently I'd walked square
into another trap. One guard asked me, "All right, now, what exactly is
your business in the Trade City?"

I'd hoped to locate Rakhal first. Now I knew I'd have no chance and at
all costs I must straighten out this matter of identity before it went
any further.

"Put me straight through to Magnusson's office, Level 38 at Central HQ,
by visi," I demanded. I was trying to remember if Mack had ever even
heard the name we used in Shainsa. I decided I couldn't risk it. "Name
of Race Cargill."

The guard grinned without moving. He said to his partner, "That's the
one, all right." He put a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around.

"Haul off, man. Shake your boots."

There were two of them, and Spaceforce guards aren't picked for their
good looks. Just the same, I gave a pretty good account of myself until
the inner door opened and a man came storming out.

"What the devil is all this racket?"

One guard got a hammerlock on me. "This Dry-towner bum tried to talk us
into making a priority call to Magnusson, the Chief at Central. He knew
a couple of the S.S. passwords. That's what got him through the gate.
Remember, Cargill passed the word that somebody would turn up trying to
impersonate him."

"I remember." The strange man's eyes were wary an