"It's somewhat more complicated than picking a pilot out of a hat, Mr. Whiteford. Not just any pilot will do. There are, of course, certain technical qualifications but there are more important ones than that. Our man would have to be perfect mentally—no nervousness, neurosis, streaks of instability or anything of the sort. We could hardly trust 75,000,000 dollars worth of rocket to a man who wasn't sound physically and mentally."
"I take it you couldn't find any?"
Burger shook his head.
"Where does the government come in?"
"The government is naturally interested in rockets," Maxwell said. "It's rumored the Russians aren't far behind us. At any rate, without a pilot, the rocket is useless."
"And the government has been unsuccessful, too?"
Maxwell hesitated. "As a matter of fact we found a pilot—at least we thought we had. He piloted the first rocket that was sent—one flight has been attempted before. From what little evidence we can gather, it appears he deliberately crashed the rocket on the moon."
"Why?"
Maxwell shrugged. "Off his trolley, I suppose. That's reason number one for our qualifications being so high."
"I frankly don't think you can find one," Burger added nastily. "Atlantic Motors has tried for months with no success."