Sheffield sat carelessly down upon the tautly yaaked top-sheet of Cimon’s bunk. He was aware of Cimon’s annoyed glance in that direction and it did not worry him. In fact, he rather enjoyed it.
He said, “I have a quarrel with your choice of men to go to the expedition site. It looks as though you’ve picked two men for the physical sciences, and three for the biological sciences. Right?”
“Yes.”
“I suppose you think you’ve covered the ground like a Danielski ovospore at perihelion.”
“Oh, space! Have you anything to suggest?”
“I would like to come along myself.”
“Why?”
“You have no one to take care of the mental sciences.”
“The menial sciences! Good galaxy! Dr. Sheffield, five men are quite enough to risk. As a matter of fact, doctor, you and your… uh… ward were assigned to the scientific personnel of this ship by order of the Bureau of Outer Provinces without any prior consultation of myself. I’ll be frank—if I had been consulted, I would have advised against you. I don’t see the function of mental science in an investigation such as this, which, after all, is purely physical. It is too bad that the Bureau wishes to experiment with Mnemonics on an occasion such as this. We can’t afford scenes like that one with Rodriguez.”
Sheffield decided that Cimon did no I know of Mark’s connection with the original decision to send out the expedition.