agents posted by now, and his only chance for
temporary freedom of action was to get out of here with as little fuss
as possible.

He sat quietly, his flushed face and tight jaw muscles betraying his
impatience as the Captain paced up and down and talked on and on. The
man sounded like he could go for hours. With increasing impatience
Kennon listened to the cadenced flow of complaint and condemnation,
occasionally inserting a "Yes, sir" or "Sorry, sir" or "No, sir" as the
words flowed around him.

However, there had to be a breaking point somewhere, and the monotony
was beginning to wear his temper thin. Another five minutes, he
reflected, was about all he could take.

The door chime rang softly.

"Come in," the Port Captain said, breaking off in mid-tirade. The change
in his manner was so abrupt that Kennon couldn't help smiling.

A young blond man in an interne's gray uniform entered the room.

"Yes, Doctor," the Port Captain said. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a Jac Kennon here? Dr. Jac Kennon?"

"Did you say doctor?" the Port Captain said in a half-strangled voice.

"You never let me tell you," Kennon said mildly, "that my landing here
was a matter of medicine. Technically you have contributed to a delay in
treatment."

The Port Captain's face paled. "Why didn't you say something?" he said.

"Against your gale of wind I would be but a faint breeze," Kennon said
coldly. He turned to the interne. "I'm Dr. Kennon." They bowed formally
to each other.

"I'm Smalley, sir, from the medical center. Dr. Brainard sends his
compliments and requests that you join him for consultation."

"The Port Captain--" Kennon began.

"Don't worry about it, Doctor. I'll relinquish responsibility to Dr.
Brainard," the Captain said.

"I have placed a formal written request with your office," Smalley said
stiffly. "You are relieved of further charge. Dr. Kennon is urgently
needed. It is a matter of medicine."

The Captain looked relieved. On Beta it was poor policy to interfere
with the doings of doctors and engineers--or even doctors of philosophy.

"Very well. He's yours--and I'm glad to be rid of him." The Port Captain
bowed to Kennon and Smalley and stalked out of the office.

"Pompous little man," Kennon observed, "but he certainly can talk."

"Oh--you know these Administrative people," the interne said
depreciatingly. "One mustn't mind them. They're necessary nuisances."
He eyed Kennon curiously. "How is