Andy Stephens stared at the farthest corner of his office (about four feet from his nose) and sighed. He didn't have a slogan in his body, let alone on (or off) the top of his head.
His assignment was an easy one, Crumbly had assured him. Planetary Promotions always started new men off with easy ones. Only fair.
Andy squared his narrowish shoulders in as close an imitation of Crumbly's desk-side manner as he could, and picked up the dope sheet.
It seemed there was a planet, Felix II, somewhere near the edge of nowhere. It wanted to join the Galactic Federation.
A laudable desire, Andy thought, but strictly a political matter, having nothing to do with Planetary Promotions, or Andrew Stephens.
However, it also seemed that a planet had to demonstrate that it would be contributing something to the Federation before it was allowed to join. In other words, Andy thought, you have to have something they want, or they won't let you in.
A buzzer squawked out of the dun-colored box on his desk. Andy jumped, and flipped the lever.
"The bus to the port will be at the door in seven minutes," the grim voice of the Lower Office Co-ordinator told him. "A stenographer will meet you on the ship."
"Thank you, Miss Ellis," Andy said meekly. He stuffed the dope sheet into his jacket and left the Main Office for Felix II.