Finally, the old man – he must have been a hundred and seventy if he was a day – drew back. He wiped a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. "Oh, Jet, lad. It's good to know you're still alive!" Jet introduced me and the old fellow said, "I was Jet's engine repair chief when he made the record run at the Academy." Crup said, "Jet's thinking of taking out Tug One."Old Atty went rigid. "Jettero Heller, you know as well as I do why she's a-lying here to rot."

"I know I used her sister ship with success. And she did just fine!" said Heller defensively.

"Ah, yes. The speed," said old Atty sadly. "Jet, you know why Tug Oneis lying here?"

"She couldn't have been here more than three years," said Heller.

"Two," said Crup.

"I was aboard her three and a half years ago. Right after Admiral Wince fixed her up as his flagship."

"Oh, yes," said Crup. "He fixed her up all right." He glanced at a sheet he was holding, "He spent two million credits on a special refit. I recall he said that every other flotilla admiral had a fancy flagship and he didn't see why he shouldn't. Of course, he never used her much. He wouldn't listen any more than you're listening now." My hair was beginning to rise a bit on the back of my neck. Heller had a stubborn look on his face. What was he letting us in for? "What's the matter with this ship?" I blurted out.

Crup said, "She's dangerous!" Atty turned to me. "She doesn't have the usual warp drives. She is equipped with Will-be Was main drives." I thought it was some maker's name.

"Timedrives," said Crup. "The type designed for intergalactic travel where distances are truly enormous and they have to work directly with time. When you run these engines inside a galaxy without a heavy load behind them, they pick up more energy than can be wasted. They work all right in a battleship with all its auxiliaries to burn the excess energy but not in a tug. And Jet knows it." I'm no expert on drives. Somebody would have to explain this to me someday. The only thing I got out of it was that this (bleeped) tug had engines that were dangerous!

But it was Atty that caved me in. "When old Admiral Wince was told Tug One'ssister ship had blown up with all hands lost while running flat-out with no tow, he instantly ordered this ship straight to Emergency Fleet Reserve and she's been here ever since."

"That settles it," I said. "No Tug One!"

"Good," said Heller. "Make out the papers."

I frantically tried to think of some way to stop this madman. But my wits just didn't seem to work! His direct counter to my decision had robbed me of my usual smooth ability to exert my will. The contradiction had been done so coolly and his cancellation of my authority seemed so final that I felt just like he had pulled a gun and shot me.

I could muster no real arguments. So I simply drew in my breath and prepared to shout "NO!" He must have heard the breath intake. Before the word I was forming could come out, he said, "Soltan, you know and I know that we must not put secrets of the Apparatus before unauthorized personnel." It was a stripped, naked, totally unclothed threat. We were on Fleet territory. He was amongst friends. With a shock I realized he knew one tightly guarded Apparatus secret – the existence of Spiteos. He undoubtedly knew nothing else but that was enough! Something inside me seemed to break. I really hadlost control. But just for now, Heller, I said to myself, just for now; when we're back in Apparatus territory, and certainly when I get you off this planet, watch out; you're going to pay for this!

I closed my mouth.

Seemingly oblivious of this byplay, Commander Crup and Atty were muttering together in a kind of huddle.

Commander Crup looked at Heller sadly. "Jet, I'm too fond of you to let you have this ship." My hopes soared!

"Jet, my boy," continued the old commander, tapping the Grand Council order, "you know and we know that you'll not be pulling any heavy loads: you'll be running any ship you get as just a mission ship. You certainly won't be going to some other galaxy. You'll be working in this one. And Tug Onewill develop more energy than you can use or waste and boom!,there you'll go just like Tug Twodid. So don't waste any time in pleading. We know you." Heller smiled a disarming smile, "And what would you say if I told you I had invented a way to bleed off the excess energy?" My hopes fell.

"You mean," said Crup, "that you'd undertake to remodel the vessel before you left?"

"I would certainly promise to remodel it," said Heller.

Wait, wait, wait, I cried silently. This would take time!

Crup looked at old Atty. Then they both shrugged.

"But there is another hitch," said Crup.

My hopes rocketed up.

"Ordinarily," the commander continued, but this time looking at me, "if Jet wanted this ship he could simply sign for it and fly it away. In this case, he can't." I was eager to hear his next words.

"For some reason or other," said Crup, tapping the Grand Council orders, "the directive that the mission be undertaken assigns it to the Exterior Division. I can't imagine how the Exterior Division also got a Fleet man. ..."

"They probably didn't have nobody who knew how to run a spaceship," sneered old Atty. "Certainly nobody like Jet."

"... but in any event," continued Crup, "I cannot transfer a unit of the Emergency Fleet Reserve to the Exterior Division, much less its 'drunks.' Their Lordships in the Fleet would have my head." Relief! I had been rescued!

"However . . ." said Crup, getting some papers out of his case.

My hopes faltered.

He found what he was looking for. ". . . we quite routinely sell supernumerary spaceships to commercial companies engaging in peaceful interplanetary traffic. We simply strip out their guns and sensitive equipment and transfer ownership. Any transaction that can be done with commercial companies can be done with the Exterior Division. Tug Onehas no guns or sensitive battle equipment so . . ." He had a list. "The price of constructing Tug Onewas four million credits . . . the refit done on her by Admiral Wince was about two million credits . . . that's six million in round figures." My hopes rose. We only had an allocation of three million total. Six was way, way out of our price range.

Crup was pulling a finger down a column of figures. "But, of course, a resale figure wouldn't be that high." I held my breath. Please, please and please now give a figure in excess of three million.

"Ah," said Crup. "Here's a note about Tug One:Due to the Fleet having in excess of two thousand service tugs of the normal type, and if any purchaser will undertake upon the sales papers not to hold the Fleet responsible if this vessel blows up, the resale price is hereby fixed at a half a million credits.

My hopes crashed with a loss of all hands. "Perfectly agreeable," said Heller. "You sure you will remodel?" said Crup. "Absolutely," said Heller.

"Good," said Crup and he began to scribble and copy numbers and add conditions to a fatal paper that would transfer Tug Onefrom the Fleet to the Exterior Division. But just before he asked for my identoplate he spoke again. "I don't think you can take it today. You don't have any engineer for her." There was not even a flicker of life in the dead ashes of my hopes.

And sure enough, old Atty said, "But he'll just need somebody to run the auxiliaries. They're simple! If you'll give me the rest of the day off, Commander, I'm his man!" He cackled. "Just so long as he don't ask me to turn on the Will-be Was main engines and just sticks to the planetary drives, I'll chief engineer for him! Today only." I am extremely well trained at hiding my feelings. I was certain that I had permitted no slightest trace of my reactions to show on my face. So I could not account for the possible malice in old Atty's voice as he turned to me and said, "I got a wife, kids, grandchildren and greatgrandchildren but I'm a lot too young to die at the throttles of time drives!" An idiot remark. It seemed to amuse him out of all proportion. He went tearing off to steal some spare fuel rods from a nearby ship.