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. He signaled a number.
A voice without a face said, "Scramble Seven."
" 'Prometheus Bound,' " Thorby answered, "and nine makes sixteen."
"Scramble set up."
"Sealed," Thorby agreed.
The face of Wing Marshal "Smith" appeared. "Hi, Thor."
"Jake, I've got to postpone this month's conference again. I hate to -- but you should see my desk."
"Nobody expects you to devote all your time to corps matters."
"Doggone it, that's exactly what I planned to do -- clean this place up fast, put good people in charge, grab my hat and enlist for the corps! But it's not that simple."
"Thor, no conscientious officer lets himself be relieved until his board is all green. We both knew that you had lots of lights blinking red."
"Well . . . all right, I can't make the conference. Got a few minutes?"
"Shoot," agreed "Smith."
"I think I've got a boy to hunt porcupines. Remember?"
" 'Nobody eats a porcupine.' "
"Right! Though I had to see a picture of one to understand what you meant. To put it in trader terms, the way to kill a business is to make it unprofitable. Slave raiding is a business, the way to kill it is to put it in the red. Porcupine spines on the victims will do it"
"If we had the spines," the "X" Corps director agreed dryly. "You have an idea for a weapon?"
"Me? What do you think I am? A genius? But I think I've found one
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