Cochrane leaned back in his chair.  His eyes blinked wearily.  He’d spent hours going over the facsimile-transmitted contract with Joint Networks, and had weeded out a total of six joker-stipulations.  He was very tired.  He yawned.

“You can tell Jones, Babs,” he said, “that all the high financing’s done.  He can spend money.  And you can transmit my resignation to Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe.  And since this is a pretty risky operation, you’d better send a service message asking what you’re to do with yourself.  They’ll probably tell you to take the next rocket back and report to the secretarial pool, I’m afraid.  The same fate probably awaits West and Jamison and Bell.”

Babs said guiltily: 

“Mr. Cochrane—­you’ve been so busy I had to use my own judgment.  I didn’t want to interrupt you—.”

“What now?” demanded Cochrane.

“The publicity on the torp-test,” said Babs guiltily, “was so good that the firm was worried for fear we’d seem to be doing it for a client of the firm—­which we are.  So we’ve all been put on a leave-with-expenses-and-pay status.  Officially, we’re all sick and the firm is paying our expenses until we regain our health.”

“Kind of them,” said Cochrane.  “What’s the bite?”

“They’re sending up talent contracts for us to sign,” admitted Babs.  “When we go back, we would command top prices for interviews.  The firm, of course, will want to control that.”

Cochrane raised his eyebrows.

“I see!  But you’ll actually be kept off the air so Dabney can be television’s fair-haired boy.  He’ll go on Marilyn Winter’s show, I’ll bet, because that has the biggest audience on the planet.  He’ll lecture Little Aphrodite Herself on the constants of space and she’ll flutter her eyelashes at him and shove her chest-measurements in his direction and breathe how wonderful it is to be a man of science!”

“How’d you know?” demanded Babs, surprised.

Cochrane winced.

“Heaven help me, Babs, I didn’t.  I tried to guess at something too impossible even for the advertising business!  But I failed!  I failed!  You and my official gang, then, are here with the firm’s blessing, free of all commands and obligations, but drawing salary and expenses?”

“Yes,” admitted Babs.  “And so are you.”

“I get off!” said Cochrane firmly.  “Forward my resignation.  It’s a matter of pure vanity.  But Kursten, Kasten, Hopkins and Fallowe do move in a mysterious way to latch onto a fast buck!  I’m going to get some sleep.  Is there anything else you’ve had to use your judgment on?”

“The contracts for re-broadcast of the torp-test.  The original broadcast had an audience-rating of seventy-one!”

“Such,” said Cochrane, “are the uses of fame.  Our cash?”