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                           TOLLIVER'S ORBIT

                  was slow--but it wasn't boring. And
                  it would get you there--as long as
                  you weren't going anywhere anyhow!

                             By H. B. FYFE

           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
             Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961.
         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]


Johnny Tolliver scowled across the desk at his superior. His black
thatch was ruffled, as if he had been rubbed the wrong way.

"I didn't ask you to cut out your own graft, did I?" he demanded.
"Just don't try to sucker me in on the deal. I know you're operating
something sneaky all through the colony, but it's not for me."

The big moon-face of Jeffers, manager of the Ganymedan branc