The technical director was a gray-haired, gaunt, bespectacled man who surveyed the staff through thick lenses. His voice filled the great shed, not that he spoke loudly, but because he had that indefinable something known as "command presence." Rick was impressed. "We sometimes forget, we technical people, that we live in a democracy," Dr. Bernais began. "We're so used to taking orders that when someone offers us a free choice we're rather surprised. However, when John Gordon spoke to me about a change in schedule, I felt we should talk it over. If you, as the people who will make Pegasus live up to its name, are eager and willing, the change will work. If you have doubts, it may not." The technical director peered through his thick lenses and located Lars Jannsson. "You have some difficult problems with the third-stage motor, Lars. Can you be ready?" Jannsson turned to his crew for confirmation, then nodded. "We will be ready whenever you say, Dr. Bernais." Robert Bialkin, head of the air-frame section, spoke up. "We're just about done anyway, Doctor. We have a few minor modifications of the airfoils, then we're finished." "Good. Where is Cliff Damon?... What shape are you in?" Before Damon could reply, Prince Machiavelli put in an appearance. The little spacemonk had apparently decided it was too lonely in the workshop. Now he jumped from head to head, ignoring the surprised cries of the staff, until he landed on Rick's shoulder. Amid the laughter, Cliff Damon said, "Here's one of our chief instruments to speak for himself. I think he's ready." Dr. Bernais peered at the marmoset, then nodded gravely. "Just one suggestion. He will undoubtedly be man- or monk-of-the-week on the cover of a news magazine. Perhaps you should give him a crew haircut, so he'll look more like one of the staff." He held up his hand and the chuckles subsided. "Then you can be ready, Cliff?... Good. Dick Earle! It's now up to you. How say you?" Dick hesitated. Rick watched him, anxious to see what his chief would say. He cuddled the spacemonk in his arms and stroked the silky head. "We'll have to put in plenty of overtime," Dick said finally. "I think we can make it all right, but it will put a load on the staff. What do you think, boys?" Rick joined in the chorus of yeas! If every other section could be ready, electronics would be, too. "There's your answer, Doctor," Dick Earle said. "Thank you. Now I ask for a unanimous opinion. Can we fly our winged horse on this new schedule?" The shout sent Prince Machiavelli skittering up to Rick's neck and down inside his shirt. Pegasus was committed to flight!