they'll cut his throat on arrival. But we'll be in the clear. They've given him complete authority to deal in this matter."
Hugh Wilkinson shook his head slowly. "If I were a younger man—" Then he looked up and a fresh light seemed to come into his eyes. "What difference does that make? I'm still young enough! We'll put the yard in the position where it belongs— or start again with bare hands if that's necessary! We'll build the ships your way, George.
"My only reservation is that I get to take you apart, piece by piece, with these bare hands if it doesn't work out the way you plan!"
There were times in his life when George Mahoney soundly cursed himself for his attempts at cleverness, and this was one of them. The days that followed Hugh Wilkinson's decision were the blackest he'd ever known.
He watched the assembly lines going into action, producing the components that were fed slowly to the big yard where the giant cruisers would be assembled. He watched the construction of control room assemblies—^which would go where control rooms had always gone—and the building of the special atmosphere plants that would produce the blue vapor the Ragalians breathed and lived in.
Every asset that Hugh Wilkinson could put his hands on was tied up in the production of those vessels. As soon as the Ragalians discovered non-compliance with specifications and the banking agencies looked into the matter—Hugh Wilkinson would be finished. George knew there was no sense in talking about a start with bare hands any more. Hugh would be washed up for good. In this galaxy, at least—
He turned over the engineering to his staff. It wasn't very complicated anyway, now that standard models had been determined upon. But Sleth Forander grew more complex by the day. George assumed responsibility for his comfort and welfare, and was under constant prodding from Hugh; "Let's get this neurosis of his cured early. Then we'll know we're in the clear. But how do we know when he's cured, anyway?"
George didn't know the answers. He hoped to find them as he went along, the way you do in- any engineering problem. But he rapidly became aware that he wasn't dealing with ordinary engineering material, while at the same time he'd committed himself to a definite, specific answer. That took the problem somewhat out of the realm of ordinary engineering, procedure. It placed it smack in the middle of plain, unadulterated idiocy.
Unexpectedly, however, Sleth Forander helped a little. With the contract signed and production under way, he seemed to unbend. "Like to see Earth," he said to
