"I didn't get there. Next thing I knew, I was in some cell." He looked up at Stan.

"Now I know where I see you. You're in that van, going out of some jail."

"Yeah." Stan nodded, looking at his own empty cup.

"Tell me something," he said slowly. "When that maintenance crew was working around your machine, did they have a gravito clamp!"

"Clamp? Yeah ... yeah, I suppose they might have. Use 'em a lot around here when they've got heavy stuff, and those guys had a lot of stuff to move."

"I see. Wonder if the field head got pointed at your machine?"

"I don't think ... I dunno, I didn't watch 'em close." Sornal looked sharply at Stan.

"You mean, they mighta--"

"Well, what could cause a temporary misflow?"

"Yeah!" Sornal bobbed his head slowly. "Funny I didn't think of that."

"So anyway, you went up to Opertal?"

"Yeah. Had me for evasion of obligation. Said I owed the company plenty for the damage done by the blowup. Claimed I'd tried to run out.

"They wouldn't let me in the machine shop up there. Had me out hauling stuff for the landscape crew. Then, they paroled me back here. Back to the machines again, only I ain't a contract man any more. Junior machinist. Oh, it's better than helper, I guess, only they don't pay much." Sornal pushed himself away from the table.

"I'm going to be real careful with my work from now on," he said.

"They got me for quite a while, but that sentence'll run out one of these days. I'll get me out of parole and pay off that claim, then I'm getting out of here. They aren't hanging another one on me."

"Only one trouble," Stan told him. "You're getting so careful, you're setting yourself up."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. They'll tack you down for malingering if you don't watch it."

Stan got to his feet.

"Tell you what you do. Run things just as you did when you were a contract man. Only one thing--if any crew comes around, pull a sample after they leave. And check it. You know how to check for magnetic and gravitic deviations. Do that, then go ahead with your run. Now go back to your machine. I'm going to do a little work."

He strode out of the refreshment room, watched Sornal as he took over the production run, then swung around and walked over to the Personnel office.

"Like to see the package on a man named Sornal," he told the clerk.

The man hesitated. "We aren't supposed to release a whole file. I can look up any specific information for you."

Stan frowned. "Don't argue with me. I want to see this guy's package.

Need his complete history. Now get it."

The clerk started to make an objection, then turned and went to the files. He flipped an index, then punched a combination of numbers on his selector. Finally, he came back with a folder.

Stan took it and flopped it open on the counter.

"All right, now just stay here while I go through this. I'll give it back in a few minutes."

He looked through the records, looking closely at one exhibit.

"Wow!" he told himself silently.

"Eleven thousand, six hundred ninety-two interstells. Only way he'll ever pay that off is by making a big dent in his savings."

He flipped the paper over, noting the details of the determination of responsibility.

As he examined the payroll data, he nodded. It all balanced out nicely. They'd get several years of production out of the man for bare subsistence.

"Very neat," he told himself.

He closed the folder and handed it back to the clerk.

"All right, that's all I need." He glanced at the clock.

"Guess I'll check out for lunch."

He walked out of the office. This one, he thought, could be broken wide open by a Guard investigation. Sornal would get his freedom, and there might be sizable damages.

"Now it would be nice," Stan muttered, "if I could work out something for myself."

The Guard sergeant was an old-timer--and a methodical man. He listened impa.s.sively, then reached under his desk. For a few seconds, his hand was hidden, then he picked up a pen.

"Now, let's get this straight. What did you say your name was?"

"Graham. Stanley Graham. I--"

The sergeant had pulled a form to him. He bent over, writing slowly.

"Graham, Stanley. All right. Now, where do you live?"

One by one, he went through the maze of blanks, insisting on getting no other information than that called for by the specific s.p.a.ce he was working on. Finally, he put down the pen and leaned back.

"All right, now how about this other man you mention?" He pulled another form to him.

Stan was becoming a trifle impatient. He answered the questions on Sornal, managing to furnish information for most of the blank s.p.a.ces on the sergeant's form.

The man dragged a still different form to him.

"All right, now what's this exact complaint?"

Stan went through Sornal's history, quoting figures and dates from the Personnel files he had read. The sergeant listened noncommittally, stopping him frequently to get repet.i.tions.

At last, he looked up.