"Yes. We want to see the commander."

The guardsman smiled. "Well, now, perhaps--"

Stan looked at him sternly.

"I've had my quota of runarounds today. I said we want to see the
commander. Now, all you have to do is take us to him. Move!"

The smile faded. For an instant, the man seemed about to rebel. Then
he turned.

"This way," he said evenly. He led the way through a large room, then
tapped at a door on the other side.

"Yes?"

The voice was vaguely familiar to Stan. He frowned, trying to place
it.

"Two men to see you, sir. Seems a little urgent."

"Oh? Well, bring them in."

Stan relaxed. This was getting easier, he thought. Now he could get
these people to take Mauson before a determinator. His statements
would furnish plenty of evidence for a full search of Janzel's
Personnel files.

He jerked his head at Mauson.

"Inside."

He waited as the man stepped through the door, then followed.

A slender man was standing behind a wide desk.

"Well," he said calmly. "Welcome home, Graham. Glad you could make
it."

"Major Michaels!" Stan forgot everything he had planned to say.

The other smiled. "Let's say Agent Michaels," he corrected. "Special
Corpsmen don't have actual Guard rank. Most of us got thrown out of
the Academy in the first couple of years."

He glanced at the guardsman, then flicked a finger out to point at
Mauson.

"Take this down and put it away somewhere till we need it, deSilva.
Graham and I have some talking to do."

"Yes, sir." The middle-aged man turned toward Stan.

"Congratulations, sir." He jerked a thumb at Mauson.

"Come on, you. March."

Michaels held up a hand as Stan opened his mouth.

"Never mind," he said quietly. "DeSilva is quite capable of handling
that one. Take care of three or four more like him if he had to.
Pretty good man." He reached for a box on his desk.

"Here," he said. "Light up. Got a few things to talk about."

"But I've got--"

"It can wait. Wall put the whole story on the tape when you were
talking to him downstairs. We've been sweating you out."

"You've been sweating me out? I had to practically force my way up
here."

"That you did." Michaels took a cigarette from the box, started to put
it in his mouth, then pointed it at Stan.

"That's normal procedure. You've heard of the Special Corps for
Investigation, I presume?"

"Yes. But--"

"Ever think of being a corpsman yourself?"

"Of course. You know that--we've talked about