"There's been a reorganization," said Cassal bluntly. "I want the signs changed."
The old man drew himself up. "Who are you?"
"I've just elected myself," said Cassal. "I'm the new first counselor."
He hoped no one would be foolish enough to challenge him. He wanted an organization that could function immediately, not a hospital full of cripples.
The old man thought about it. He was merely a menial, but he had been with the bureau for a long time. He was nobody, nothing, but he could recognize power when it was near him. He wiped his eyes and shambled out into the fine cold rain. Swiftly the new signs went up.
TRAVELERS AID BUREAU
S. T. A. with us
Denton Cassal, first counselor
Cassal sat at the control center. Every question cubicle was visible at a glance. In addition there was a special panel, direct from the spaceport, which recorded essential data about every newly arrived traveler. He could think of a few minor improvements, but he wouldn't have time to put them into effect. He'd mention them to his assistant, a man with a fine, logical mind. Not really first-rate, of course, but well suited to his secondary position. Every member quickly rose or sank to his proper level in this organization, and this one had, without a struggle.
Business was dull. The last few ships had brought travelers who were bound for unimaginably dreary destinations, nothing he need be concerned with.
He thought about the instrument. It was the addition of power that made the difference. Dimanche plus power equaled Manche, and Manche raised the user far above the level of other men. There was little to fear.