"Relax, Howard, relax."
"In our case it means taking out our preconceived ideas, looking at them, checking our illusions against reality."
"Are you serious about this?"
"Another thing," said Frayberg, "I want to check up a little. Shifkin says the expense accounts are frightful. But he can't fight it. When Keeler says he paid ten munits for a loaf of bread on Nekkar IV, who's gonna call him on it?"
"Hell, let him eat bread! That's cheaper than making a safari around the cluster, spot-checking the super-markets."
Frayberg paid no heed. He touched a button; a three-foot sphere full of glistening motes appeared. Earth was at the center, with thin red lines, the scheduled space-ship routes, radiating out in all directions.
"Let's see what kind of circle we can make," said Frayberg. "Gower's here at Canopus, Keeler's over here at Blue Moon, Wilbur Murphy's at Sirgamesk ..."
"Don't forget," muttered Catlin, "we got a show to put on."
"We've got material for a year," scoffed Frayberg. "Get hold of Space-Lines. We'll start with Sirgamesk, and see what Wilbur Murphy's up to."