ters. He
would be back in eight days. Maybe a trifle less, with his girl due to
arrive on the _Cerberus_ in nine and him to be married in ten. But--

Sergeant Madden swore. As a prospective bridegroom, Timmy's place was on
this call for help to the _Cerberus_. But he wasn't available. It was in
his line, because it was specifically a traffic job. The cops handled
traffic, naturally, as they handled sanitary-code enforcement and
delinks and mercantile offenses and murderers and swindlers and missing
persons. Everything was dumped on the cops. They'd even handled the Huks
in time gone by--which in still earlier times would have been called a
space war and put down in all the history books. It was routine for the
cops to handle the disabled or partly disabled _Cerberus_.

* * * * *

Sergeant Madden pushed a button marked "_Traffic Emergency_" and held it
down until it lighted.

"You got that _Cerberus_ report?" he demanded of the air about him.

"Just," said a voice overhead.

"What've you got on hand?" demanded Sergeant Madden.

"The _Aldeb_'s here," said the voice. "There's a minor overhaul going
on, but we can get her going in six hours. She's slow, but you know
her."

"Hm-m-m. Yeah," said Sergeant Madden. He added vexedly: "My son Timmy's
girl is on board the _Cerberus_. He'll be wild he wasn't here. I'm going
to take the ready squad ship and go on out. Passengers always fret when
there's trouble and no cop around. Too bad Timmy's off on assignment."

"Yeah," said the Traffic Emergency voice. "Too bad. But we'll get the
_Aldeb_ off in six hours."

Sergeant Madden pushed another button. It lighted.

"Madden," he rumbled. "Desk. The _Cerberus_' had a breakdown. She's
limpin' over to Procyron III for refuge to wait for help. The _Aldeb_'ll
do the job on her, but I'm going to ride the squad ship out and make up
the report. Who's next on call-duty?"

"Willis," said a crisp voice. "Squad ship 390. He's up for next call.
Playing squint-eye in the squad room now."

"Pull him loose," Sergeant Madden ordered, "and send somebody to take
the desk. Tell Willis I'll be on the tarmac in five minutes."

"Check," said the crisp voice.

Sergeant Madden lifted his thumb. All this was standard operational
procedure. A man had the desk. An emergency call came in. That man took
it and somebody else took the desk. Eminently fair. No favoritism; no
throwing weight around; no glory-grabbing. Not