"Can it! Who's your Section boss? Get him down here. On the double. Come on!" His face was streaming with perspiration but his voice was firm with the purpose that drove him. Her lips closed into an angry line, and she jabbed a finger at a desk button. "I'll call the Personnel Manager." "Thanks," he said sarcastically, and waited impatiently. Odd, the way the Receptionist looked a little like Nan. The Personnel Manager wore a perfectly-tailored suit. He strode across the lobby floor toward Ish, his hand outstretched. "Martin Isherwood!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. "I'm _very_ glad to meet you!" "I'll bet," Ish said dryly, giving the Personnel Manager's hand a short shake. "I've got other ideas. I want out." "That's all he's been saying for the past forty-five minutes, Sir," the Receptionist said from behind her desk. The Personnel Manager frowned. "Um. Yes. Well, that's not unprecedented." "But hardly usual," he added. Ish found himself liking the man. He had a job to do, and after the preliminary formality of the greeting had been passed, he was ready to buckle down to it. Oh, he--shucks?--the Receptionist wasn't such a bad girl, either. He smiled at her. "Sorry I lost my head," he said. She smiled back. "It happens." He took time to give her one more smile and a half-wink, and swung back to the Personnel Manager. "Now. Let's get this thing straightened out. I've got--" He stopped to look at his watch. "Six hours and a few minutes. They're fueling the beast right now." "Do you know how much red tape you'd have to cut?" Ish shook his head. "I don't want to sound nasty, but that's your problem." The Personnel Manager hesitated. "Look--you feel you've got a job unfinished. Or, anyway, that's the way you'd put it. But, let's face it--that's not really what's galling you. It's not really the job, is it? It's just that you think you've been cheated out of what you devoted your life to." Ish could feel his jaw muscles bunching. "Don't put words in my mouth!" he snapped. "Just get me back, and we'll split hairs about it when I get around this way again." Suddenly, he found himself pleading. "All I need is a week," he said. "It'll be a rough week--no picnic, no pleasures of the flesh. No smoking, no liquor. I certainly won't be breaking any laws. One week. Get there, putter around for two days, and back again. Then, you can do anything you want to--as long as it doesn't look like the trip's responsible, of course." The Personnel Manager hesitated. "Suppose--" he began, but Ish interrupted him. "Look, they need it, down there. They've got to have a target, someplace to go. We're built for it. People have to have--but what am I telling _you_ for. If you don't know, who does?" The Personnel Manager smiled. "I was about to say something." Ish stopped, abashed. "Sorry."