en, and their assistants, all
surprisingly attractive and well-built young women. Bud Carroll and
Sylvia Bannister of Sociology sat together. He was almost as big as
Karns; she was a green-eyed redhead whose five-ten and one-fifty would
have looked big except for the arrangement thereof. There were Bernadine
and Hermione van der Moen, the leggy, breasty, platinum-blonde
twins--both of whom were Cowper medalists in physics. There was Etienne
de Vaux, the mathematical wizard; and Rebecca Eisenstein, the
black-haired, flashing-eyed ex-infant-prodigy theoretical astronomer.
There was Beverly Bell, who made mathematically impossible chemical
syntheses--who swam channels for days on end and computed planetary
orbits in her sleekly-coiffured head.

"First, we'll have a get-together," Hilton said. "Nothing recorded; just
to get acquainted. You all know that our fourteen departments cover
science, from astronomy to zoology."

He paused, again his eyes swept the group. Stella Wing, who would have
been a grand-opera star except for her drive to know everything about
language. Theodora (Teddy) Blake, who would prove gleefully that she was
the world's best model--but was in fact the most brilliantly promising
theoretician who had ever lived.

"No other force like this has ever been assembled," Hilton went on. "In
more ways than one. Sawtelle wanted Jeffers to head this group, instead
of me. Everybody thought he _would_ head it."

"And Hilton wanted Eggleston and got _me_," Sandra said.

"That's right. And quite a few of you didn't want to come at all, but
were told by the Board to come or else."

The group stirred. Eyes met eyes, and there were smiles.

* * * * *

"I myself think Jeffers _should_ have had the job. I've never handled
anything half this big and I'll need a lot of help. But I'm stuck with
it and you're all stuck with me, so we'll all take it and like it.
You've noticed, of course, the accent on youth. The Navy crew is normal,
except for the commanders being unusually young. But we aren't. None of
us is thirty yet, and none of us has ever been married. You fellows look
like a team of professional athletes, and you girls--well, if I didn't
know better I'd say the Board had screened you for the front row of the
chorus instead of for a top-bracket brain-gang. How they found so many
of you I'll never know."

"Virile men and nubile women!" Etienne de Vaux leered enthusiastically.
"_V