She was as tall for a girl as Socrates was for a man, and the long
cascade of her golden hair didn't need sunlight to make it gleam. She
was the prettiest thing in Mimas, and that included Socrates' glossy
new domettes. But it was because of her that he perspired.
"Please go away," he said. "Grow up in someone else's tourist haven,
Norma, like a good girl. If you hadn't decided to see what was in the
sponge grottoes of Callisto I'd still have my business there. If you
hadn't--"
"Bygones are bygones, Smitty. That's a good boy. But not quite. I see
your good friend Percival Farquhart is back--"
"Is that what the P. stands for? Percival, hah-hah."
"I wouldn't talk, _Socrates_. I wouldn't talk at all."
"Okay, okay. But look--there's a liner for Ceres tonight. I'll buy you
a ticket. The Interplanetary Fair--"
"I already saw it. Stinks. Besides, I have a roundtrip ticket good for
two years, so you don't have to buy me anything. You just mind your
business, and I'll mind mine. All I want to do is ride the rings."
"Well, I'll take you up tonight. Then will you leave?"
"Hell, no. You're not taking me anywhere. Didn't you know I got my
pilot's license?"
"Oh, no. Don't tell me it's come to that. They didn't give you a
license!"
"Oh yes they did. Fifth try this year, and I finally made it. Nice
young inspector, took me out to dinner afterwards. First they set his
arm, but it wasn't my fault. Those damn asteroids can really pop up
out of nowhere. Well, Smitty, which is my domette?"
Socrates sighed. He had no choice. If he didn't let her stay she'd make
it her business to talk to Farquhart before she left. Then Farquhart
would say the place was unsafe because she had a license. And yet
Socrates wouldn't let her ride the rings. As simple as that.