"Yessi—"
"Then don't say another word." He pulled out a little black book, made a notation and looked at Hartley as if no one else were there. "What's this about?"
"Nothing important, sir. We didn't have the specimen box set cryogenically a few times and when the temperature went up to human normal in the compression cycle chamber little water crystals flew out."
"Well, nothing unusual about that."
"But, sir," Cramer protested, "they couldn't have been just water."
"Silence!" Chisholm roared and two of his staff officers at the bend of a corridor turned to watch the fun. "Consider yourself under Probationary discipline, Mister Cramer. Informality's natural and permissible on a front-line craft like a scouter but chain of command has to be absolute on a dreadnought, you know that."
"I'm very sorry this happened, sir," Hartley apologized.
"When we land he's under your probationary control for the first five days of Earth leave. It's up to you to teach him how to stay in line." He rubbed his brush mustache thoughtfully. "To begin with, though, it might be good to take him along to Analysis Lab just to show him how wrong he probably is even about the specimens. Any objections to that, Mister?"
"No sir!" he said, more hopeful now of exposing Hartley.
"A very good idea, sir," Hartley nodded unexpectedly.