moon?” Alger was now determined in his state of ignorance, a firm holder of no opinions. While Drin, denied an easy solution, gave vent to his frustration and slapped a bulkhead.
“Dammit,” he said. “Nothing fits.”
They sighed awhile.
“So what now?” Drin finally asked Alger.
“Leave a report of our investigations here,” Alger said, “and go home. What else do we do?”
Chapter Twelve
Sub-director Nero Porsnin has previously been described as a small, bald and anxious man. Nero Porsnin’s most dominant characteristic was, however, that he was puzzled. And he was profoundly puzzled because he couldn’t understand why his career hadn’t followed a path similar to that of Munred Danporr’s.
Five years Munred’s senior, Nero had latterly arrived at XE2, had not yet been given a Departmental Directorship. The powers-that-be seemed to have decided that Sub-director was the highest Service rank that Nero would attain. Not that Nero was overly aggrieved by that realisation, merely puzzled.
Scholastically Nero had more qualifications than Munred, had five years more experience, yet on his last three applications for vacant Directorships he had not been accorded an interview. Only once, four years before, had he been interviewed for a Departmental Directorship; and, having failed that interview, he had not been granted another. Many of his off-duty hours, and on duty, had subsequently been spent wondering what gaffe he could have made at that interview that had sentenced him to Sub-Directorships for life.
The fact was that Nero had made no gaffe at that interview; but, that one interviewing board having preferred someone with six years less experience than him, an indelible question mark had been placed beside Nero Porsnin’s name. His subsequent failure to attain even an interview had given him an ineradicable stigma. To any interviewing board now, glancing over his record, there was obviously something doubtful about him, and they didn’t intend wasting their time finding out what.
Nero Porsnin was simply unfortunate. His rival for that first vacancy had been a charming personable young man of somewhat the same stamp as Munred Danporr. While Nero Porsnin, although he tried hard to make himself liked, possibly because he tried so hard to make himself liked, he could not, even by those few who called themselves his friends, be described as charming, nor personable.
Too eager to please, too anxious to do the right thing, laughing too quickly and too loudly at his colleagues’ quips, Nero offered friendship promiscuously. Even his subordinates thought him obsequious to them. And as a Service delegator there were few his equal. Possibly the interviewing board had divined, with a rare perspicacity, that Nero would not lightly carry responsibility; because, even where improvisation was only notionally expected of a Director, Nero always went strictly by the book.
On one station Nero had been known as The Ace Procrastinator. Possibly the interviewing board had heard of his reputation. Others, of a more cynical persuasion, might say, though, that the interviewing board had simply been seduced by his rival’s superficial confidence. And Nero could not be described as emanating either confidence or resourcefulness; rather the opposite — his anxiety transmitted itself; and no-one places trust in a man who is so ostensibly anxious. Indeed, by the time of these events, Nero had come by the state of mind where he expected the worst and the worst invariably happened.
* * * * *
At this juncture in the narrative a description of Inspector Eldon Boone is also required. Suffice it to say that, where Nero was small, Inspector Eldon Boone was, by any standards, a huge man, whose full red beard and red hair seemed only to add to his immense stature. Beside one such as Eldon Boone Nero Porsnin seemed even smaller, balder, and decidedly the more anxious.
As to the Inspector’s tardy
“Dammit,” he said. “Nothing fits.”
They sighed awhile.
“So what now?” Drin finally asked Alger.
“Leave a report of our investigations here,” Alger said, “and go home. What else do we do?”
Chapter Twelve
Sub-director Nero Porsnin has previously been described as a small, bald and anxious man. Nero Porsnin’s most dominant characteristic was, however, that he was puzzled. And he was profoundly puzzled because he couldn’t understand why his career hadn’t followed a path similar to that of Munred Danporr’s.
Five years Munred’s senior, Nero had latterly arrived at XE2, had not yet been given a Departmental Directorship. The powers-that-be seemed to have decided that Sub-director was the highest Service rank that Nero would attain. Not that Nero was overly aggrieved by that realisation, merely puzzled.
Scholastically Nero had more qualifications than Munred, had five years more experience, yet on his last three applications for vacant Directorships he had not been accorded an interview. Only once, four years before, had he been interviewed for a Departmental Directorship; and, having failed that interview, he had not been granted another. Many of his off-duty hours, and on duty, had subsequently been spent wondering what gaffe he could have made at that interview that had sentenced him to Sub-Directorships for life.
The fact was that Nero had made no gaffe at that interview; but, that one interviewing board having preferred someone with six years less experience than him, an indelible question mark had been placed beside Nero Porsnin’s name. His subsequent failure to attain even an interview had given him an ineradicable stigma. To any interviewing board now, glancing over his record, there was obviously something doubtful about him, and they didn’t intend wasting their time finding out what.
Nero Porsnin was simply unfortunate. His rival for that first vacancy had been a charming personable young man of somewhat the same stamp as Munred Danporr. While Nero Porsnin, although he tried hard to make himself liked, possibly because he tried so hard to make himself liked, he could not, even by those few who called themselves his friends, be described as charming, nor personable.
Too eager to please, too anxious to do the right thing, laughing too quickly and too loudly at his colleagues’ quips, Nero offered friendship promiscuously. Even his subordinates thought him obsequious to them. And as a Service delegator there were few his equal. Possibly the interviewing board had divined, with a rare perspicacity, that Nero would not lightly carry responsibility; because, even where improvisation was only notionally expected of a Director, Nero always went strictly by the book.
On one station Nero had been known as The Ace Procrastinator. Possibly the interviewing board had heard of his reputation. Others, of a more cynical persuasion, might say, though, that the interviewing board had simply been seduced by his rival’s superficial confidence. And Nero could not be described as emanating either confidence or resourcefulness; rather the opposite — his anxiety transmitted itself; and no-one places trust in a man who is so ostensibly anxious. Indeed, by the time of these events, Nero had come by the state of mind where he expected the worst and the worst invariably happened.
* * * * *
At this juncture in the narrative a description of Inspector Eldon Boone is also required. Suffice it to say that, where Nero was small, Inspector Eldon Boone was, by any standards, a huge man, whose full red beard and red hair seemed only to add to his immense stature. Beside one such as Eldon Boone Nero Porsnin seemed even smaller, balder, and decidedly the more anxious.
As to the Inspector’s tardy
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