George Olmstead (primo do Primeiro Lensman) está disfarçado (tipo - os bandidos sabem quem ele é, mas não acha que ele é leal ao primo) na fábrica de processamento de tionite.
"Morning, boys. I'm not up on the fundamental theory of any one of these three reports, but if you combine this, and this, and this," indicating heavily-penciled sections of the three documents, "would you, or would you not, be able to work out a process that would do away with about three-quarters of the final purification and separation processes?"
They did not know. It had not been the business of any one of them, or of all them collectively, to find out.
"I'm making it your business as of now. Drop whatever you're doing, put your heads together, and find out. Theory first, then a small-scale laboratory experiment. Then come back here on the double."
"Yes, sir," and in a few days they were back.
"Does it work?"
"In theory it should, sir, and on a laboratory scale it does." The three young men were, if possible, even stiffer than before. It was not the first time, nor would it be the last, that a Director of Research would seize credit for work which he was not capable of doing.
"Good. Miss Reed, get me Rand ... Rand? Olmstead. Three of my boys have just hatched out something that may be worth quite a few million credits a year to us.... Me? Hell, no! Talk to them. I can't understand any one of the three parts of it, to say nothing of inventing it. I want you to give 'em a class AAA priority on the pilot plant, as of right now. If they can develop it, and I'm betting they can, I'm going to put their pictures in the Northport News and give 'em a couple of thousand credits apiece and a couple of weeks vacation to spend it in.... Yeah, I'll send 'em in." He turned to the flabbergasted three. "Take your dope in to Rand--now. Show him what you've got; then tear into that pilot plant."