"I checked with Bilford," the general director said. "He's getting the microwave technique worked out fairly well now; he says he can bring a man around in twenty-five to thirty days." He stopped and looked at Roysland closely. "Go ahead and ask for volunteers."
"Thanks," said Roysland.
Eckisster nodded as he dissolved.
Roysland reached over and punched a button. "Where's Kiffer?" he asked.
"Eating at the mess hall, right now," said a voice.
"That's what I thought. Will you have him come here, to my place, as soon as he gets through? Say, in half an hour?"
"I'll tell him."
"Fine." Roysland lifted his finger and turned to the typer on his desk. He wasn't used to the makeshift office, and he found himself wishing he was back on Kandoris VI, in his own office.
He shrugged and began running his fingers over the typer. It took him only a few minutes to put down what he wanted to say. When he finished, he pulled the sheet from the printer tank and put it on his desk, in plain sight. At the top, he scrawled: "To Kiffer Samm." His own signature went at the bottom.
Then he put on his spacesuit and headed out, toward the outside air lock.