Webster rose quickly through the ranks once he got out of Space School. His mind was as alert as his body so he outdistanced all his peers; the seniority system of promotion had long since been outmoded. A man rose on his own merits. Webster had been a Third Officer only three months when he ran into his first little difficulty. He was strolling down the center of the street when a parade headed by a band started coming the other way. A burly Space Patrolman kept just ahead of the band clearing the way. When he saw Webster he called out: "Out of the way, Third." Somehow that didn't set right with Webster, so he just stopped and looked at the Patrolman. The Patrolman got annoyed and made a fatal mistake. He laid his hands on Webster. The next instant he sailed through the air and landed at the feet of the crowd that was beginning to form at the curb. Webster started to leave but by that time the Drum Major was up to him. The Drum Major didn't think Webster was moving fast enough so he gave him a little shove. Then things began to happen. An assessment of the damages later showed that in the battle of Webster versus the Band, Webster was the victor. It took a hack saw to get the trombone player out of the wrappings of his trombone. Several other players were wearing their instruments too. And Third Officer Webster became Sixth Officer Webster. But you can't keep a good man down. In three months he was up again. The second incident wasn't his fault, at all. He was leaving the Post Delicatessen one night after buying cold cuts. As he approached his runabout he saw someone fiddling with the controls, apparently about to drive off in it. With a roar he heaved his package at the dimly-seen figure. The package burst open from the jet-like power of his huge hand and various objects sped toward the intruder like a charge of buck-shot. One of them found its mark. But Webster wasn't so proud of his aim a moment later when he pounced on the man. Webster had conked himself an Admiral. The Admiral struggled groggily to his feet. He had been hit squarely in the mouth with three feet of whistling liverwurst. It took the medics two days to make the Admiral a new set of teeth. But it only took the Board fifteen minutes to make Webster a Fifth. It was along about then that Webster's friends began kidding him about never getting beyond Third. He didn't mind--not too much. And the next time he got up to Third he kept an eye on himself. So did half the Fleet. But it didn't do any good. He was standing at the bar one night chatting with a few friends. He'd had a couple of drinks, but nothing much. None of the Spacemen drank much. Anyhow a group of eleven men gathered behind him and began needling him. He good-naturedly parried their remarks for awhile. Then one of them called him a cave man.