said was true, where were you? And if it might not be true, why was it
said? Even now he shuddered at the chaos he would have to face, live
with. No certainties on which to stand.

He washed the memory out of his thought, and concentrated on the
flashing pips that chased themselves over the operator's screen. There
was nothing wrong with the equipment. Nothing wrong with the
communication channels between Eden and Earth.

"Blasted colonists," the supervisor muttered. "Instead of a beam on
their planet, I'd like to bounce a rock on their heads. I'll bet they've
let all the sets at their end get out of order."

He knew it was a foolish statement, even if the operator's face hadn't
told him so. Any emergency colonist, man or woman--and there were fifty
of them on Eden--could build a communicator. That was regulation.

"You sure there haven't been any emergency calls from them?" he asked
the operator with sudden suspicion. "You're not covering up some neglect
in not notifying me? If you're covering up, you'd better tell me now.
I'll find out. It'll all come out in the investigation, and ..."

The operator turned around and looked at him levelly. He looked him
over, with open contempt, from bald head to splayed feet. Then he coolly
turned his back. There was a limit to just how much a man could stand,
even to hold a job at E Headquarters.

It was about time the supervisor got somebody with brains onto the job.
The sector chief should be called immediately. Supervisors were supposed
to have enough brains to think of something so obvious as that. That
much brains at least.

2

The first reaction of the sector chief to the dreaded words "delayed
report" was a shocked negation, an illusory belief that it couldn't
happen to him.

To the intense annoyance of the communications supervisor, his first act
was to rush down to communications and go through all the routines for
rousing the colonists the supervisor had tried. His worry was mounting
so rapidly that he hardly noticed the resigned expression of the
operator who knew he would have to go through all these useless motions
again and again before it was all over, and somebody did something.

"Well," the chief said to the supervisor. "It's my problem now." He
sighed, and unconsciously squared his shoulders.

"Yes, Chief Hayes," the supervisor agreed quickly. Perhaps too quickly,
with too much relief? "Well, that is, I mean ..." his voice trailed off.
After a