ur parabolic mirrors; its
ion guide was on a universal joint. Out There, in orbit or beyond, and
in full, spatial sunlight, its jetting ions would deliver ten pounds of
continuous thrust.

"A thousand bucks--that's nowhere near enough," Two-and-Two mourned
further. "Doggone, why can't we get blasted up off the Earth--that costs
the most, all by itself--just in our Archies? They've got those little
ionic drives on their shoulders, to get around with, after we're in
orbit. Lots of asteroid hoppers live and ride only in their space suits.
Why do they make us get all that other expensive equipment? Space bubbs,
full-size ionics, lots of fancy instruments!"

"'Cause it isn't legal, otherwise," Mitch Storey pointed out. "'Cause
new men are green--it isn't safe for them, otherwise--the
Extra-Terrestrial Commission thinks. Got to have all the gear to get
clearance. Travelling light isn't even legal in the Belt. You know
that."

"Maybe we'll win us another prize," Ramos laughed, touching the crinkly
substance of their first bubb, hanging like a deflated balloon over the
ceiling pole.

Tiflin sneered. "Oh, sure, you dumb Mex. Too many other Bunches, now.
Too much competition. Like companies starting up on the Moon not hiring
ordinary help on Earth and shipping them out, anymore--saying contract
guys don't stick. Nuts--it's because enough slobs save them the expense
by showing up on their own... Or like most all of us trying to get into
the Space Force. The _Real Elite_--sure. Only 25,000 in the Force, when
there are over 200,000,000 people in the country to draw from. Just one
guy from Jarviston--Harv Diamond--ever made it. Choosy? We can get old
waiting for them to review our submitted personal data, only to have a
chance to take their lousy tests!"

Joe Kuzak grinned. "So down with 'em--down with the worthy old U.S.S.F.!
We're on our own--to Serenitatis Base on the Moon, to the Belt,
Pallastown, and farther!"

Ramos still hovered near Eileen Sands. "What do you say, Sweetie?" he
asked. "You haven't hardly made a comment."

Eileen remained tough and withdrawn. "I'm just listening while you smart
male characters figure out everything," she snapped. "Why don't you
become a listener, too, for a change, and go help Gimp out of that
Archer?"

Ramos bowed elegantly, and obeyed the latter half of her suggestion.

"I have a premonition--a hunch," little Lester offered, trying to sound
firm. "Our request for a grant from the