however, red tab alarms were ringing all over the place for him.
His secretary, Sylvia, was definitely pale as he showed up just as she was putting down the phone. She eyed him seriously. "I don't know whether it would be better for you to leave for Mars on the night express—or go up to the Old Man's office and face it. The choice is up to you."
He grinned. "I'll see the Old Man. I slept out one night the first time I was on Mars. Something must be up," he added on a note of question.
"Brother—is something up—!" Sylvia groaned.
The Old Man was Hugh Wilkinson, President and founder of Wilkinson Spacecraft. It was mostly personal affection for Hugh that kept the majority of technical personnel at the plant. They could have made half again as much in one of the bigger shops.
But Hugh Wilkinson was the original spacemen's space man. He'd barnstormed and fought his way through half the galaxy by the time he was fifty, traveling most of the time in spit-and-baling-wire ships that nobody expected to reach the next port. He almost literally built his ships as he went, and hundreds of his inventions now made space travel infinitely safer and more efficient in everything from sports jallopies to luxury spacetime cruisers.
But he'd fought for independence all his life, and it was independence he intended to have, even though it now meant bucking the biggest spaceship construction interests in the Galaxy or on Earth. He believed he knew how to build a better spaceship than any of them, and he still had a few tricks up his sleeve to prove it.
George stopped a moment at the door marked President, while he grinned at Hugh's secretary. She was pale, too, as Sylvia had been. Must really have been some fireworks going on around the place, he thought. But from the interior of the office, there was absolute silence now.
He pressed the knob and walked in.
The only two men in the room were Hugh, and Mark Wilde. Mark was slumped low in the conference chair in the far corner of the room. Hugh was seated behind his desk, still straight, but chin lowered as he looked fiercely from beneath his heavy eyebrows.
"I heard you were looking for me," George said tentatively.
Neither man answered. The silence continued. He closed the door quietly and remained standing. "I didn't know you were having an hour of meditation," he said finally. "I'll be in the office when you want me." He moved to open the door again.
"Sit down!" Hugh Wilkinson roared.
Smiling a little forcedly, George complied. "Where were you when
