er man you mention?" He pulled
another form to him.

Stan was becoming a trifle impatient. He answered the questions on
Sornal, managing to furnish information for most of the blank spaces
on the sergeant's form.

The man dragged a still different form to him.

"All right, now what's this exact complaint?"

Stan went through Sornal's history, quoting figures and dates from the
Personnel files he had read. The sergeant listened noncommittally,
stopping him frequently to get repetitions.

At last, he looked up.

"Got any documents to back up this story?"

Stan coughed impatiently.

"No, of course not. I can't pull a file out of Personnel and just
carry it up here. It's on file, though. I just got through reading the
working file and there's a private file on the guy, too, that would
really bust things wide open."

The sergeant smiled sourly.

"Maybe it would. I suppose they'd pull it right out and hand it over,
too."

He spun his chair around and fished a book from a shelf behind his
desk.

"Here." He put the book on the corner of the desk. "Here is the
regulation on this sort of situation."

He pointed out words, one at a time.

It was a long regulation, filled with complex terminology. It forbade
seizure of records in any manner not definitely authorized by local
statute. The sergeant went through it, getting full value from each
word.

At last his finger came away from the page.

"Those are private records, you're talking about. On this planet, the
law protects corporate records to the fullest extent. We'd have to
have positive evidence that an incriminating document was in
existence. We'd have to define its location and content within fairly
narrow limits. Then we'd have to go before a local determinator and
request authority for an examination of that document."

He slammed the book shut.

"And if we failed to find the document in question, or if it wasn't
actually incriminating, the injured corporation could slap us with a
juicy damage claim." He looked at Stan coldly.

"If you want, I can get the local statute and let you look that over,
too." He paused briefly and non-expectantly.

"On the other hand, we are obligated to protect the interests of
galactic citizens." He looked pointedly at the insigne on Stan's
pocket, then held out a tablet.

"Here. Suppose you sit down over there at that table and write out the
complaint in your own handwriting. I'll pass it along."

Stan looked at