The official extended his hand. "Your papers, please."
Kendall reached inside his jacket pocket for the small booklet of identification papers. An icy shiver ran down his back.
The booklet was gone.
"What's the matter?" the official asked.
"My ID booklet is gone! I put it in my jacket just before I left the ship; I must have lost it on my way over here."
"If that's the case, someone will return it," the Customs official said. "It's of no use to anyone else. We'll send out a call for it. Meanwhile, I'm afraid you'll have to remain inside the spaceport."
Kendall scowled. Of all the lousy time-wasting pieces of red-tape, he thought. He felt trapped by bureaucracy. He didn't have time to waste hanging around the spaceport tonight.
"We'll also ask for confirmation over the subradio," said the official. "What is your home planet?"
"Rastol III, near Deneb."
"Very well. Even if we don't find your ID booklet, we can give you a temporary pass if you are identified from Rastol by subradio."