“Yeah. We could use him.” _Want him? Jeeeeesus!_ “Okay, I’ll tell you what. I’ll try calling him. See what happens.” He thought quickly. “Suppose I get hold of him and call you back? See how his time stacks up--if he’ll see me at all. Then you and I can work out some time to get together.” “Good. I’ll juggle my time if I have to, for this.” “Right.” After he switched off, he sat and thought for a while. Then he moved the tray, combed his hair, got his jacket back on, and tried Jed again. He got through this time. “Say, don’t you get any phone messages there?” he demanded. “Sure, but I never get to make any calls. There’s always one coming in.” The general and the scientist grinned at each other. “I take it you made out?” Harbridge said. “_I_ didn’t. _You_ did,” Chris told him. “They were all ready to let me out the back door with a pat on the head and a promise of a box of old clothes for my little Mars-bugs as soon as they had some to spare. But lab facilities down here for Earth-normal environment studies? Sorry! So ... I told them, very sincerely, that I thought perhaps General Harbridge could be persuaded to handle the Earthside part of the project--and we sat down and talked.” Jed looked very innocent. “You know,” he said, “sometimes I wonder what we ever did to make them so--_touchy_ over there?” “It’s a long story,” Chris said, and then, soberly: “Look, I still got troubles. It worked out about the way we figured--some personnel money, and maybe a bit for supplies. Okay, we can run some good studies on the bugs down here, which we need to, but they won’t even consider transferring the whole lab setup down till the September report. _After_ elections, that means. It was a stone wall, Jed. We’re already shut out.” “Not _quite_,” Harbridge said. “But--” He didn’t have to finish it; they’d been all over the ground the night before. “Well?” he said finally. “What do you think? You want to try it the hard way?” “I don’t know, Jed,” Chris said slowly. “It looked good last night, but--Let’s say, if it looks necessary, a month from now would be soon enough. Don’t you think?” “Better,” the General said. “Silly season.” “Yeah. Okay. Hell, I hope we don’t have to--I’ve got a new line to try, anyhow.” “Something good?” “I don’t know. Phil Kutler just called me. You know--the psycher? I was telling you about him last night?” Jed nodded. “He’s been following up on Johnny Wendt. Thought I ought to see him, about now.” He saw Harbridge’s wary glint. “If there’s anything to it ...” he said prayerfully. “Well, if you get Wendt, you won’t need--” He broke off again. “What I was thinking--I’m going to call Johnny now. If I get anywhere, I’ll let you know.” He smiled. “_Or_ if I don’t. Either way, I’ll talk to you tomorrow before I take off.” “Right. Good luck, Chris.” “Thanks.” He made several rapid calls, checking on the routine of the trip. Then he built himself one more tall drink and switched on the phone.