"No, really," Briggs said earnestly. "Got himself a plastics shop,
and he's making models of every city on Earth. Fabulous thing. Take a
lesson, Pace."
The man stood up and went to the viewport of the cabin. "I'm not a
child, Briggs."
"That's a lousy attitude," Towne said cheerfully.
"Perhaps," Murchison said solemnly, "you've lost sight of your purpose
out here."
"Nuts," said Pace inaudibly.
"We've got reason to be mighty proud of you fellows, you know. You're
the real backbone of the space fleet. You're the men who keep the space
lanes safe."
"You're only happy when you're griping," Towne said good-naturedly.
"That's okay with me, pal. That's the American way, isn't it?" He
grinned at the other two. "Just like the Army. Gripe, gripe, gripe." He
rubbed the flesh around his middle and yawned sleepily.
"Then there's the radio, of course," Briggs said. "You can always hear
a friendly voice."
"Friendly?" Pace smiled grimly. "Have you listened in on your control
stations lately? Those boys are all business."
"Well, they're pretty busy, Pace. You have to remember that." Murchison
folded his hands into his lap.
"Busy," said Pace enviously.
* * * * *
"I know what's eating him," Towne said wisely. "It's the girl."
Pace looked away.
"Laura was very sorry about not showing up, Pace," Murchison said.
"It's this rotten virus stuff that's going around. You know how she
looks forward to these visits--"
"You bet," Towne agreed. "There's an outposter on G-70 who'll _really_
cry in his beer when we show up without her."
"The Sweetheart of Space," the man said sardonically.
"Oh, come on," Briggs said. "You like to see her as much as anybody
else, Pace. She's a good kid."
"All right," Pace said.
"Everybody likes to look at a pretty girl," Towne said archly. "Can't
blame you for not being happy with only our mugs to look at. That's
really the trouble, isn't it?"
"No!" Pace answered.
"Don't kid me," Towne said. "Don't forget, I'm the Personal Affairs
Officer. I know what you guys are interested in. That's the big beef on
the belt--dames."
"It's not just that," Pace said painfully.
"Sure--"
"It's not! It's--" Pace looked disgusted. He picked up an object from
the table and turned it in his hand.
"What's that, Pace?"
The man jiggled it in his palm. "A carving. I've been doing some
carving. Only this coal-type mineral."
"Let's see it."
Pace concealed it. "It's nothing," he said.
"That's the stuff, Pace." Briggs looked pleased. "Keep those hands
busy. Keep your mind off space."
"And Laura," Towne said.