Tog said, “There's only one spaceport on New Delos. The priesthood didn't encourage trade or even communication with the outside. Didn't want its people contaminated.”
“Holy smokes!” Ronny blurted. “It's possible that Tommy Paine's on that planet and can't get off. Look, Tog, see if you can raise the Section G representative on New Delos and—”
Tog said demurely, “I already have taken that step, Ronny, knowing that you'd want me to. Agent Mouley Hassan has promised to get the name and destination of every passenger that leaves New Delos.”
Ronny sat down at a table and dialed himself a mug of stout. “Drink?” he said to Tog. “Possibly we've got something to celebrate.”
She shook her head disapprovingly. “I don't use depressants.”
There was nothing more to be discussed about New Delos, they simply would have to wait until their arrival. Ronny switched subjects. “Ever hear of the planet Shangri-La?” he asked her. He took a sip of his brew.
“Of course,” she said. “A rather small planet, Earth type within four degrees. Noted for its near perfect climate and its scenic beauty.”
“Captain was talking about it,” Ronny said. “Sounds like a regular paradise.”
Tog made a negative sound.
“Well, what's wrong with Shangri-La?” Ronny said impatiently.