r muscular coordination."

He said in some surprise, "You mean it's that loud?"

"Uh-huh." Christy leaned forward. "What is it, Bill? You haven't been
yourself for weeks. You looked haggard yesterday and when you left the
ship you were almost running, as if trying to escape from something.
And now this strange avoidance of Tom. He got hold of me this morning
early, wanting to know where you were. And I guess it's pretty
important that he sees you, Bill. Seems there's been trouble at the
field."

It was as if someone had prodded him in an agonizingly sore place and
he reacted instinctively. He let his knife clatter on his plate, aware
that he was dramatizing himself.

"When I'm ready for a woman's sticking her nose into my affairs, I'll
send her a special invitation!"

Christy's delicate nostrils flared, and her bosom rose and fell
rapidly. Then she seemed to get hold of herself. "I'm sorry if you got
that impression, Bill. I was only trying to help you both."

Cherishing his irritation, Bill went on, "Seems to me you're bending
over backward helping Tom, playing messenger, private eye--"

Christy broke in with a catch in her throat, "Oh, Bill, please! Let's
not quarrel as soon as we get back."

Bill shoved his dishes aside, the tone of her voice reaching into him
to dampen down the fires of anger. Then he managed a slow faint grin.

"Okay, Christy." He reached for the check, saying, "Well, if you can
stand my company, would you like to come along out to the field?"

With her eyes glistening, she answered, "I'd love to."

* * * * *

The private rocket landing field of the Staker Space Mining Company
was an hour's drive north of the city. Three miles from the field they
made out the two gleaming snouts of the rockets pointing skyward. Then
as they approached the edge of the field, Bill turned off toward a two
story frame structure that served as office and warehouse.

Bill said, "Might as well check to see if Tom is in the office
first."

At the door Bill poked his head in and shouted up the stairwell,
"Hi--Tom?"

A chair scraped, and footsteps sounded across the upstairs floor.
"Yeah--that you, Bill? C'mon up!"

They found Tom at a desk before a wide window view of the field. On
the office walls hung big graphs of fuel consumption curves,
trajectory plots from Earth to the asteroid belt, ballistics
computations, oxygen consumption curves per unit metabolism per man.

C