The Prime Minister took off his glasses and wiped them carefully.
"Every day, we get a couple of them, usually between three and four. They come in and out as they please. Routine checks, I suppose."
"Okay. What does this have to do with me?"
"After we declared that the Tsero Crystal had been lost, the number of such Permits passing through our borders increased. In the ten days following the declaration, four hundred Intergalactic Federation-Issued Special Permits passed through."
"IFISPs, huh?"
"Usually, SPs."
"Special Permits." Cero nodded. "Or Syndicate Permits?"
"Either is fine."
"Again, what does this have to do with me? Or with us landing?"
The Prime Minister scratched his chin for a moment.
"Following your landing and the declaration of the retrieval of a Tsero Crystal, twenty-six hundred SPs passed through our borders."
"Oh, shit."
"Shit is right." The Prime Minister nodded.
The implication was obvious.
