"What has Mastermind tried this time?" stormed Channing. He tore out of the room and headed for the Director's office on a dead run. On the way, he hit his shoulder on the door, caromed off the opposite wall, righted himself, and was gone in a flurry of flying feet. Three heads popped out of doors to see who was making the noise. Channing skidded into Burbank's office on his heels. "What gives?" he snapped. "D'ye realize that we've lost the beam? What have you been doing?" "It is a minor difficulty," said Burbank calmly. "We will iron it out presently." "Presently! Our charter doesn't permit interruptions of service of this magnitude. I ask again: What are you doing?" "You, as electronics engineer, have no right to question me. I repeat, we shall iron out the difficulty presently." Channing snorted and tore out of Burbank's office. He headed for the Office of Beam Control, turned the corner on one foot, and slammed the door in roughly. "Chuck!" he yelled. "Chuck Thomas! Where are you?" No answer. Channing left the beam office and headed for the master control panels, out near the air lock end of Venus Equilateral. He found Thomas stewing over a complicated piece of apparatus. "Chuck, for the love of Michael, what in the devil is going on?" "Thought you knew," answered Thomas. "Burbank had the crew install photoelectric mosaic banks. Instead of having a crew of beam-control operators, he intends to use the photomosaics to keep Venus, Terra, and Mars on the beam." "Great sniveling Scott. They tried that in the last century and tossed it out three days later. Where's the crew now?" "Packing for home. They've been laid off!" "Get 'em back! Put 'em to work. Turn off those darned photomosaics and use the manual again. We've lost every beam we ever had." * * * * * A sarcastic voice came in at this point. "For what reason do you interfere with my improvements?" sneered the voice. "Could it be that you are accepting graft from the employees to keep them on the job by preventing the installation of superior equipment?" Channing turned on his toe and let Burbank have one. It was a neat job, coming up at the right time and connecting sweetly. Burbank went over on his head. "Get going," Channing snapped at Thomas. Charles Thomas was not a small man himself, but after considering Channing's one ninety, he decided to comply. He left. Channing shook Burbank's shoulder. He slapped the man's face. Eyes opened; accusing eyes, rendered mute by a very sore jaw, tongue, and throat.