"Yes, sir." Tony turned.
"Second violation, Radek. Why?"
Tony forced a blank face. He lifted his shoulders, said: "I was over here on my way to Cell Two for the Execution. How could I—"
"That will be all, Radek! Clear your desk. Prepare for judgment on final machines."
Tony swallowed. He didn't move because he couldn't move.
"Well, Radek?"
He fought his face clean, kept his hands rigid at his sides. Sweat was rolling down his back, but that was all right; Central Command couldn't be expected to see sweat roll down a man's back under his clothing, though a lot of people thought so.
"A suggestion, sir," he said at last.
"What?" Hard eyes bored into his own.
He let a little anxious look creep over his face. Not a guilty look—he hoped—but the kind of anxious look a worried but innocent man might have in a spot like this.