"You know perfectly well that they do. I couldn't even stand Venus very long. I need a job on Mars, Dave—or on Earth."
"Yes," said Dave Hawke sadly, "I guess you're right." He looked straight at Tam, his eyes sorrowful. "The truth is, I can't help you. I'd like to, but I can't. There's nothing I can do."
Tam stared, the pain of disillusionment sweeping through him. "Nothing you can do!" he exploded. "But you're the director of this bureau! You know every job open on every one of the planets—"
"I know. And I have to help get them filled. But I can't make anyone hire, Tam. I can send applicants, and recommendations, until I'm blue in the face, but I can't make a company hire—" He paused, staring at Tam. "Oh, hell," he snarled, suddenly, his face darkening. "Let's face it, Tam. They won't hire you. Nobody will hire you. You're a Sharkie, and that's all there is to it, they aren't hiring Sharkies. And there's nothing I can do to make them."
Tam sat as if he had been struck, the color draining from his face. "But the law—Dave, you know there's a law. They have to hire us, if we apply first, and have the necessary qualifications."
The big man shrugged, uneasily. "Sure, there's a law, but who's going to enforce it?"
Tam looked at him, a desperate tightness in his throat. "You could enforce it. You could if you wanted to."
he big man stared at him for a moment, then dropped his eyes, looked down at the desk. Somehow this big body seemed smaller, less impressive. "I can't do it, Tam. I just can't."