work?"

"I don't know. I'm not qualified to be on that team. I can't even
understand their reports. However, I know two things. First, they'll get
it in time. Second, we BuSci people will stay here until they do.
However, I'm still hopeful of finding a shortcut through Laro. Anyway,
with this detector thing settled, you'll have plenty to do to keep all
your boys out of mischief for the next few months."

"Yes, and I'm glad of it. We'll install our electronics systems on a
squadron of these Oman ships and get them into distant-warning formation
out in deep space where they belong. Then we'll at least know what is
going on."

"That's a smart idea, Skipper. Go to it. Anything else before we hit our
sacks?"

"One more thing. Our psych, Tillinghast. He's been talking to me and
sending me memos, but today he gave me a formal tape to approve and hand
personally to you. So here it is. By the way, I didn't approve it; I
simply endorsed it 'Submitted to Director Hilton without
recommendation'."

"Thanks." Hilton accepted the sealed canister. "What's the gist? I
suppose he wants me to squeal for help already? To admit that we're
licked before we're really started?"

* * * * *

"You guessed it. He agrees with you and Kincaid that the psychological
approach is the best one, but your methods are all wrong. Based upon
misunderstood and unresolved phenomena and applied with indefensibly
faulty techniques, et cetera. And since he has 'no adequate laboratory
equipment aboard', he wants to take a dozen or so Omans back to Terra,
where he can really work on them."

"Wouldn't _that_ be a something?" Hilton voiced a couple of highly
descriptive deep-space expletives. "Not only quit before we start, but
have all the top brass of the Octagon, all the hot-shot politicians of
United Worlds, the whole damn Congress of Science and all the
top-bracket industrialists of Terra out here lousing things up so that
nobody could ever learn anything? Not in seven thousand years!"

"That's right. You said a mouthful, Jarve!" Everybody yelled something,
and no one agreed with Tillinghast; who apparently was not very popular
with his fellow officers.

Sawtelle added, slowly: "If it takes _too_ long, though ... it's the
uranexite I'm thinking of. Thousands of millions of tons of it, while
we've been hoarding it by grams. We could equip enough Oman ships with
detectors to guard Fuel Bin and our lines. I'm not recommen