The captain maintained a stony silence.
“Also,” Quemos continued, “we have unearthed, so to speak, a reference to a metal component called a babbitt—”
“Now see here!” Captain Fromer roared, “who do you think you’re kidding with this talk about worms, dogs and rabbits—”
“Babbitts, Captain, babbitts! Perhaps a type of bearing. Anyway, we’re at work on the problem, I assure you.” Quemos motioned to Hansen that he was through talking.
During the next three days, Hansen twice visited Bullard and Quemos. On each occasion, he found the two men in trance-like conditions, ostensibly thinking through the problem that they had been assigned to solve, but more probably, Hansen guessed, brooding about the reaction of Sector Headquarters to their daily progress reports which Hansen had been relaying for them. Hansen had only sympathy for the people back at Sector Headquarters, for if these two experts were the Galaxy’s two top trouble-shooters, the Federation, was not, as Hansen put it to himself, in very good shape to fight a war with one hundred billion enraged citizens who worshiped His Exalted Excellency R’thagna Bar almost as much as they did his seed.
Hansen went back to his reading, only to be interrupted with increasing frequency by message transmissions from an increasingly alarmed Sector Headquarters. Most messages were addressed to Bullard, and were bravely designed to disguise the senders’ hysteria, while at the same time urging Bullard on to more magnificent efforts. A few messages, fairly representative of the state of affairs as time wore on reflected an increasing suspicion on the part of Sector Headquarters that Quemos and Bullard, although certainly tops in their fields, were not tops enough.
sec hdq
bullard, com. rly.
43.4sc
president would like estimate of when door will be opened. you sure you can handle? emphasize that political situation now getting touchy. repeat touchy. r’thagna bar calling on president today to make demand that seed be planted on time. sure you don’t need more help?
cmd general