The detective caromed against the same immovable barrier. "Let me by!" he gasped.
"Your ticket and passport, please," said the Jovian.
"That man is under arrest. Let me by."
"Your ticket and passport, please."
"I tell you I'm an officer of the law and I have a warrant for that man. Let me by."
"Proper authorization may be obtained at the main office," said the Jovian coldly.
The detective tried to rush, encountered a bit of expert judo, and tumbled back into the crowd. Every able-bodied Jovian was a well-trained military reservist.
"Proper authorization may be obtained at the main office," repeated the immovable barrier. To the next man, "Your ticket and passport, please."
Ray Ballantyne dashed the sweat off his brow and permitted himself a nasty chuckle. By the time the hapless detective had gone through all that red tape, the tender would be well on its way.
Before one of his country's secret police the Jovian would have quailed and said nothing. But this was Earth, and the Confeds loved to bait Terrestrials, and there was no better way than by demanding the endless papers which their file-clerk mentalities had devised.