"I can't. I'm on the Jupiter run in an hour."
"No," corrected the Director, "you're not on the Jupiter run. You're heading for Neptune with Mister Gordon ... in his ship."
"Why pick on me?" interrupted Timmy. "I'm not fussy about whom I share space with ... but I just cleaned ship ... and I don't like this lug."
"Sorry," said the Director. "Yours is the only ship in the Four Planets fast enough to make the trip in time, but you're not licensed for flight beyond Jupiter."
"How about another pilot?" Timmy pulled no punches in letting the Director know how he, personally, felt about Mr. Shelton Thurner.
"I haven't another," the Director paused. "But you can take a third man as super-cargo, Gordon. It might quiet down the Kilkenny-cat action."
A slow smile rolled over Timmy's face. "Okay," he said. "I'll take Johnny Damokles."
Thurner leaped to his feet. "That dam' Greek dishwasher!" he exploded. "What use is he in space?"
"He can sing ... and read Aristotle in the original Greek ... whoever Aristotle was."
"Blast the whole job! I won't go!"