Line public. The public has a right to know what its employees are
doing, and it's my business to see that they're informed. Now, for the
last time--will you show us a copy of that claim?"

"Well, let me explain, off the record--" the official begged.

"Huh-uh! Huh-uh! I had that off-the-record gag worked on me when I was
about Larv's age, fifty years ago. Anything I get, I put on the air or
not at my own discretion."

"All right," Varkar Klav surrendered, pointing to a reading screen and
twiddling a knob. "But when you read it, I hope you have enough
discretion to keep quiet about it."

The screen lit, and Yandar Yadd automatically pressed a button for a
photo-copy. The two newsmen stared for a moment, and then even Yandar
Yadd's shell of drowsy negligence cracked and fell from him. His hand
brushed the switch as he snatched the hand-phone from his belt.

"Marva!" he barked, before the girl at the news office could more than
acknowledge. "Get this recorded for immediate telecast!... Ready?
Beginning: The existence of a huge paratemporal slave trade came to
light on the afternoon of One-Five-Nine Day, on a time line of the
Third Level Esaron Sector, when Field Agent Skordran Kirv, Paratime
Police, discovered, at an orange plantation of Consolidated Outtime
Foodstuffs--"

* * * * *

Salgath Trod sat alone in his private office, his half-finished lunch