One of the guards looked up at Roysland's huge frame and said: "May I see your pass, sir?"
Roysland pulled out his pass and handed it to the guard.
The guard barely glanced at it; then he shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir; this is a general pass. You'll have to get one of the special passes for this ship. The Inspection Division has—"
"Where the devil do I get a pass?" Roysland snapped.
"You'll have to apply at Inspection," the guard said. "In person," he added.
Roysland shook his hand. "I'm not going twelve miles back to Administration. Who's in charge here?"
"Inspector Gowlan, sir."
"Call him; tell him Roysland Dwyn wants to see him."
The guard hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly into the communicator on his wrist. The speaker in his ear buzzed a reply. "He'll be right out," said the guard.
A moment later, a dark-haired, average-sized man in a chief inspector's uniform fell through the drop chute from the ship and crossed the open space toward Roysland. "Roysland Dwyn?" he said, holding out his hand. "You're Special Weapons, aren't you? I'm Gowlan."