sir, anything that even hinted at extending the cruising range would receive a maximum-urgency priority."

"In other words, you feel that anything we can do to extend our operations is the most important thing in the whole Space Service?"

"Well, sir, perhaps not the most important, but—"

"Your modesty is gratifying. I presume this modesty would prevent you from accepting any more than the Letter of Commendation from the Office of the Secretary?"

"I don't understand, sir."

"You don't? Mr. Reed, was your desire to improve the efficiency of Operations a simple desire to improve the Service—or did you hope that this brilliant suggestion would, perhaps, provide you with a better assignment?"

"I still do not understand."

"Oh, you don't? Mr. Reed, why did you join the Space Service in the first place?"

"Because, sir, I hoped that I could be instrumental in helping mankind to spread across the Galaxy."

"Mr. Reed, have you sand in your shoes?"

"Sir?"

The commander sighed. "You hoped to go along on the voyage, didn't you?"

"Well, sir, I did have a hope that I'd become a real spaceman."

"And you're disappointed?"

Howard Reed's face was wistful, torn between a desire to confide in his commanding officer and the fear of saying what he knew to be a sharp criticism of the Space Service.

Then Reed realized that he was in a bad pinch anyway, and so he said, "Sir, I'm commissioned as a junior spaceman, but in three years I've only made one short test flight—and only to Luna! I am competent to pilot—or at least that's what the flight simulators say in my checkout tests. I'm a junior spaceman—yet every time I apply for active space duty, I'm refused! Three years I've spent in the Service, sir, solving theoretical and hypothetical problems in space operations. But aside from one test flight to the Moon, I have yet to set a foot inside of a spacecraft, let alone stand on the soil of another world!"

"You must learn patience, Mr. 

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