"The crash program has been approved for the two-way rocket; it is on the drawing board and current estimates are that the envoy can be brought back in three years."
"Ganymede has replied to our last message; a suitable artificial environment will be available for the envoy."
"Personnel Specialist Jones?"
Carlton gave his chin a final sweaty rub and slowly rose to his feet. "General Marcher, sir," he choked, "I'm ... we're ... experiencing a little difficulty finding a volunteer, so far—"
"Negative perspiration on that count, Jones," the Project Officer interrupted. "The draft has never been abolished; we can grab anyone you put your finger on! Now, who will it be?"
"Sir, it doesn't seem to be that so much as ... well ... sir, has any consideration been given to perhaps sending a delegation rather than a single envoy?"
The general smiled broadly. "Now, that is more like it! I take it you mean you have a number of equally-qualified persons who have expressed an intense desire to go to Ganymede, and there is no way to impartially select one of these men over the others? This is commendable. However, our space limitation clearly precludes sending more than one person. I'm afraid you will just have to make your choice from a hat."
Jones turned a trifle redder. "That's not exactly the problem, either, sir."
The general's smile wilted and became a frozen frown. "Just exactly what are you trying to say, Jones?"
"There's no one who can meet the qualifications, sir," Jones said, feeling sick at his stomach.