It was all a question of stimuli.

“Well, little Japurovac, what do you find?” Hammurabi asked the ship’s thranx physician.

The diminutive female insectoid looked up at the Captain, her usually pretty face a red moon nightmare. The ferocious aspect was caused by the special goggles she wore. They included built-in analytical equipment and sensors, not to mention special magnifying lenses for compound eyes. Japur cocked her head to one side, curious.

“Tell me, dear Captain. If you are so keen to have these substances analyzed, why do you not convey them to the customs offices in Repler City? The facilities there are far in advance of what I have to work with here.”

“I hope the answers you give me show more insight than that question, Doctor. You’re too shrewd a gal to miss something so obvious.”

“I did talk to Takaharu, in fact, but I wanted some confirmation from you. Keep your carapace on! I’ve done what you requested. Not at all surprised someone tried to kill you for these bottles.”

“Several someones. At least one man has died because of them already. Have you really turned something up? Or are you just putting me off because you couldn’t find anything?”

Japurovac drew herself up to her full meter and a third, truhands and hand-feet assuming a posture of mild outrage. Whether insult or flattery, Japur was more susceptible than most to either.

“I shall choose to ignore that. Of course, if you don’t wish the efforts of my poor labor . . .”

“Okay, I give up. Don’t get your ovipositors in an uproar. You know the entire ship would go to pieces without you.”

She relaxed somewhat. “That’s better. And watch the dirty language. I am a lady, you know! Now, the analysis of the materials in question was simple enough. The process of gravity separation was purely mechanical. To be certain I reran the time-consuming procedure several times. I wanted to be sure all questionable particles had been separated out. The reason for this will be self-defining when you see the results. Even so, I doubt that you will honestly appreciate my efforts, but no matter.”

Hammurabi looked ceilingward for solace. Why, Malcolm, do you inflict a petulant, spoiled female physician on yourself and your ship? Why?

Because she’s too damn good to get rid of, that’s why.

The doctor continued. “There are measurable quantities of the drugs tween, mithrah, pollus, felturney and felturney-B mixed in with the spices. Some of the latter are quite tasty, I might add.”

“I’m sure. What else?”

“There are also considerable amounts of two more potent narcotics, aelo and mak, each in its own spice jar. On the current market they ought to bring about 5000 credits.”

“Those are both artificially produced drugs, aren’t they?

“Just so. To produce either in quantities pure enough to be useful or deadly, depending on which end of the injector you’re on, considerable production facilities are required. Also a good deal of chemical know-how. Why? What difference does it make which Hell they originate from?”