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every time I try to tackle a technical problem some bloody fool wants me to make a decision about
trucks or telephones or some damn thing. I m sorry, Mr. Harriman. I thought I could do it. Harriman
said very gently,  Don t let it throw you, Bob. You haven t had much sleep lately, have you? Tell you
what we ll put over a fast one on Ferguson. I ll take that desk you re at for a few days and build you a
set-up to protect you against such things. I want that brain of yours thinking about reaction vectors and
fuel efficiencies and design stresses, not about contracts for trucks. Harriman stepped to the door,
looked around the outer office and spotted a man who might or might not be the office s chief clerk.
 Hey, you! C mere.
The man looked startled, got up, came to the door and said,  Yes?
 I want that desk in the corner and all the stuff that s on it moved to an empty office on this floor,
right away.
The clerk raised his eyebrows.  And who are you, if I may ask?
 Damn it 
 Do as he tells you, Weber, Coster put in.
 I want it done inside of twenty minutes, added Harriman.  Jump! He turned back to Coster s
other desk, punched the phone, and presently was speaking to the main offices of Skyways.  Jim, is your
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boy Jock Berkeley around? Put him on leave and send him to me, at Peterson Field, right away, special
trip. I want the ship he comes in to raise ground ten minutes after we sign off. Send his gear after him.
Harriman listened for a moment, then answered,  No, your organization won t fall apart if you lose
Jock or, if it does, maybe we ve been paying the wrong man the top salary .
"Okay, okay, you re entitled to one swift kick at my tail the next time you catch up with me but send
Jock. So long.
He supervised getting Coster and his other desk moved into another office, saw to it that the phone in
the new office was disconnected, and, as an afterthought, had a couch moved in there, too.  We ll install
a projector, and a drafting machine and bookcases and other junk like that tonight, he told Coster.  Just
make a list of anything you need to work on engineering. And call me if you want anything. He went
back to the nominal chiefengineer s office and got happily to work trying to figure where the organization
stood and what was wrong with it.
Some four hours later he took Berkeley in to meet Coster. The chief engineer was asleep at his desk,
head cradled on his arms. Harriman started to back out, but Coster roused.  Oh! Sorry, he said,
blushing,  I must have dozed off.
 That s why I brought you the couch, said Harriman.  It s more restful. Bob, meet Jock Berkeley.
He s your new slave. You remain chief engineer and top, undisputed boss. Jock is Lord High Everything
Else. From now on you ve got absolutely nothing to worry about except for the little detail of building a
Moon ship.
They shook hands.  Just one thing I ask, Mr. Coster, Berkeley said seriously,  bypass me all you
want to-you ll have to run the technical show but for God s sake record it so I ll know what s going
on. I m going to have a switch placed on your desk that will operate a sealed recorder at my desk.
 Fine! Coster was looking, Harriman thought, younger already.
 And if you want something that is not technical, don t do it yourself. Just flip a switch and whistle;
it ll get done! Berkeley glanced at Harriman.  The Boss says he wants to talk with you about the real
job. I ll leave you and get busy. He left.
Harriman sat down; Coster followed suit and said,  Whew!
 Feel better?
 I like the looks of that fellow Berkeley.
 That s good; he s your twin brother from now on. Stop worrying; I ve used him before. You ll think
you re living in a well-run hospital. By the way, where do you live?
 At a boarding house in the Springs.
 That s ridiculous. And you don t even have a place here to sleep? Harriman reached over to
Coster s desk, got through to Berkeley.  Jock get a suite for Mr. Coster at the Broadmoor, under a
phony name.
 Right.
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 And have this stretch along here adjacent to his office fitted out as an apartment.
 Right. Tonight.
 Now, Bob, about the Moon ship. Where do we stand?
They spent the next two hours contentedly running over the details of the problem, as Coster had laid
them out. Admittedly very little work had been done since the field was leased but Coster had
accomplished considerable theoretical work and computation before he had gotten swamped in
administrative details. Harriman, though no engineer and certainly not a mathematician outside the
primitive arithmetic of money, had for so long devoured everything he could find about space travel that
he was able to follow most of what Coster showed him.
 I don t see anything here about your mountain catapult, he said presently.
Coster looked vexed.  Oh, that! Mr. Harriman, I spoke too quickly.
 Huh? How come? I ve had Montgomery s boys drawing up beautiful pictures of what things will
look like when we are running regular trips. I intend to make Colorado Springs the spaceport capital of
the world. We hold the franchise of the old cog railroad now; what s the hitch?
 Well, it s both time and money.
 Forget money. That s my pidgin.
 Time then. I still think an electric gun is the best way to get the initial acceleration for a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]