"You mean, they mighta--" "Well, what could cause a temporary misflow?" "Yeah!" Sornal bobbed his head slowly. "Funny I didn't think of that." "So anyway, you went up to Opertal?" "Yeah. Had me for evasion of obligation. Said I owed the company plenty for the damage done by the blowup. Claimed I'd tried to run out. "They wouldn't let me in the machine shop up there. Had me out hauling stuff for the landscape crew. Then, they paroled me back here. Back to the machines again, only I ain't a contract man any more. Junior machinist. Oh, it's better than helper, I guess, only they don't pay much." Sornal pushed himself away from the table. "I'm going to be real careful with my work from now on," he said. "They got me for quite a while, but that sentence'll run out one of these days. I'll get me out of parole and pay off that claim, then I'm getting out of here. They aren't hanging another one on me." "Only one trouble," Stan told him. "You're getting so careful, you're setting yourself up." "Huh?" "Yeah. They'll tack you down for malingering if you don't watch it." Stan got to his feet. "Tell you what you do. Run things just as you did when you were a contract man. Only one thing--if any crew comes around, pull a sample after they leave. And check it. You know how to check for magnetic and gravitic deviations. Do that, then go ahead with your run. Now go back to your machine. I'm going to do a little work." He strode out of the refreshment room, watched Sornal as he took over the production run, then swung around and walked over to the Personnel office. "Like to see the package on a man named Sornal," he told the clerk. The man hesitated. "We aren't supposed to release a whole file. I can look up any specific information for you." Stan frowned. "Don't argue with me. I want to see this guy's package. Need his complete history. Now get it." The clerk started to make an objection, then turned and went to the files. He flipped an index, then punched a combination of numbers on his selector. Finally, he came back with a folder. Stan took it and flopped it open on the counter. "All right, now just stay here while I go through this. I'll give it back in a few minutes." He looked through the records, looking closely at one exhibit. "Wow!" he told himself silently. "Eleven thousand, six hundred ninety-two interstells. Only way he'll ever pay that off is by making a big dent in his savings." He flipped the paper over, noting the details of the determination of responsibility. As he examined the payroll data, he nodded. It all balanced out nicely. They'd get several years of production out of the man for bare subsistence. "Very neat," he told himself. He closed the folder and handed it back to the clerk. "All right, that's all I need." He glanced at the clock. "Guess I'll check out for lunch."