In the Officers' Club on Earth, someone said, "What's the latest
report?"
Commander Breckenridge of Operations said, "Last detected by the
station at Last Gasp, Ross 780, and going like hell wouldn't have them."
Commander Hughes of the Bureau of Justice said, "They're going at it
rather early, aren't they?"
Scholar Ross of the Department of Domestic Tranquility waved at his
comparison microscope and its data cards. "It would be hard to find
two people better suited to one another." He looked at his watch and
smiled. "I'd say that by now they've both forgotten completely that
they were ever strangers."
Commander Briggs of the Bureau of Research refilled the glasses with
the finest nonsynthetic vintage champagne that the cellar of the
Officers' Club could provide. He held his glass high and said, "I toast
the bride and groom and the ultimate colonization of the Galaxy--by
subterfuge!"
But Scholar Ross pulled the hand down. With a shake of his head, he
held his own glass high. "Sorry, Briggs. But this time we toast the
reactionaries, the die-hards and the rule-ridden old guard who have to
work like the very devil to pair off a deserving young couple, and then
force them into finding a home of their own--on some other planet.
"Gentlemen. To the Troublemakers!
"_Ourselves!_"