"It's from Rear-Sobucks!" Bataul exclaimed. "A retail concern that obviously handles automatic bathers!"
"But it was our aid shipment, wasn't it?"
"Apparently not. It says here, '... for merchandise previously extended in behalf of the Western Cluster....'"
"I don't understand."
Bataul's features struggled through a gamut of expressions. "I think I'm just beginning to. Do you remember last year when we had that communications survey made? Between here and the nearest Western relay station, there was that single system. I think some crackpot had laid claim—of course. McWorther's his name. Calls himself a potentate."
Netath stiffened. "And you think—?"
"I think both we and McWorther are victims of message interfusion," Bataul said flatly.
"And our aid shipments—?"
"I'd bet McWorther must be wringing his hands over more loot than he'll ever be able to count."
Netath started punching buttons on his desk. "We've got work to do."