"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 it. But I never could—"
"That's right." Michaels waved the cigarette. "We don't have recruiting offices. All our people have to force their way in. Tell me, do you know anything about the history of this planet?"
Stan clenched his teeth. Somehow, he had lost the initiative in this interview. He took a deep breath.
"Look," he said decisively, "I—"