Third Fleet must take up the sword alone." His
temper had been quite restored. "But." He raised a stern finger.
"One thing at a time, and not missing a single detail. That's how
we've got to do it."

"The business of the day, sir?"

"Yes, we'll discuss it over breakfast." A rare honor. "Have you eaten
yet today?" And Calder went off to do his master's bidding.

Leif Janson, meanwhile, dressed himself in a state of anxiety such as
he had seldom experienced. He had no grounds for this feeling; he had
been summoned at odd hours by high personages before. But remembering
his blunder the day before, so innocent, and yet looked upon with such
gravity, he felt in his gut that a dark cloud hung over him, and
wondered only at the severity of the coming storm.

He had never liked Hayes, liked him still less for their meeting; but
this could not alter the fact, much as it galled him, that he was
terrified of the man. STUPID, he admonished himself. THIS ISN'T NAZI
GERMANY. He tried to shave, cut himself, realized that this would look
bad, placed a skin pad over the area, forgetting to wipe away the blood
first, ripped it off, toweled his face and did it again. By now his
agitation was so acute that he began to get angry. But his experience
in government service told him that if he gave in to his instincts
(fought back), not only would things not get better, they could get
considerably worse.

And so, passing through the corridor and up through an elevator tube,
he entered after two lefts and a right, the hallway that led to SubCon
20. He checked his watch. Two minutes early. He stopped, knowing by
reputation Hayes' fanaticism concerning time. Needing something to
occupy his mind, he mused for perhaps the thousandth time that
everything in the military was capital letters and even numbers: black
and white. He paced a little, and looking up, saw to his dismay that
the hall camera followed his every movement. He checked his watch.
Thirty seconds to go. TO HELL WITH THIS, he thought. He entered the
chamber.

Hayes looked up from the table as he saluted, nodded placidly, and
finished his breakfast without haste. Calder, standing against the
adjacent wall, gazed at him with the blank, somewhat hostile expression
of an off-duty drill sergeant. Hayes placed the tray in the wall-slot,
brushed stray crumbs from the table with his uniform sleeve, and
without rising, addressed him.

"Major Leif Janson, I belie