ck that was slowing everything down to a crawl
... but they knew that. They knew it better than anyone else could, and
felt it more keenly. Especially Karns, the team chief. He had been
driving himself like a dog, and showed it.

Hilton had talked with him a few times--tried gently to make him take it
easy--no soap. He'd have to hunt him up, the next day or so, and slug it
out with him. He could do a lot better job on that if he had something
to offer ... something really constructive....

That was a laugh. A very unfunny laugh. What could he, Jarvis Hilton, a
specifically non-specialist director, do on such a job as that?

Nevertheless, as director, he would _have_ to do something to help Team
One. If he couldn't do anything himself, it was up to him to juggle
things around so that someone else could.

VI

For one solid hour Hilton stared at the wall, motionless and silent.
Then, shaking himself and stretching, he glanced at his clock.

A little over an hour to supper-time. They'd all be aboard. He'd talk
this new idea over with Teddy Blake. He gathered up a few papers and was
stapling them together when Karns walked in.

"Hi, Bill--speak of the devil! I was just thinking about you."

"I'll just bet you were." Karns sat down, leaned over, and took a
cigarette out of the box on the desk. "And nothing printable, either."

"Chip-chop, fellow, on that kind of noise," Hilton said. The team-chief
looked actually haggard. Blue-black rings encircled both eyes. His
powerful body slumped. "How long has it been since you had a good
night's sleep?"

"How long have I been on this job? Exactly one hundred and twenty days.
I did get some sleep for the first few weeks, though."

"Yeah. So answer me one question. How much good will you do us after
they've wrapped you up in one of those canvas affairs that lace up the
back?"

"Huh? Oh ... but damn it, Jarve, I'm holding up the whole procession.
Everybody on the project's just sitting around on their tokuses waiting
for me to get something done and I'm not doing it. I'm going so slow a
snail is lightning in comparison!"

"Calm down, big fellow. Don't rupture a gut or blow a gasket. I've
talked to you before, but this time I'm going to smack you bow-legged.
So stick out those big, floppy ears of yours and really _listen_. Here
are three words that I want you to pin up somewhere where you can see
them all day long: SPEED IS RELATIVE. Look back, see how far up the hil