fense, please--I don't really believe
it's so, and if it isn't so you're tough enough not to be hurt. Far
worse--I'm a girl. So why am I trying to do things in a man's way, when
there are means that are made for me? I'm all of twenty-two. I've got
nobody except an aunt in Illinois. Meanwhile, out in New Mexico, there's
a big spaceport, and a lot of the right people who can help me. I'll bet
I can get where you want to go, before you do. Tell Mr. J. John Reynolds
that he can have my equipment--most of which he paid for. But perhaps
I'll still be able to give him his ten percent."

"Eileen! Cripes, what are you talking about?" This was Ramos yelping, as
if the clown could be hurt, after all.

"I don't mean anything so bad, Fun Boy," she said more gently. "Lots of
men are remarkably chivalrous. But no arguments. Now that I have
declared my intentions, I'll pick up and pull out of here this
minute--taking some pleasant memories with me, as well as a
space-fitness card. You're all good, plodding joes--honest. But there'll
be a plane west from Minneapolis tomorrow."

She was getting into her blazer. Even Ramos saw that arguments would be
futile. Frank Nelsen's throat ached suddenly, as if at sins of omission.
But that was wrong. Eileen Sands was too old for him, anyhow.

"So long, you characters," she said. "Good luck. Don't follow me
outside. Maybe I'll see you, someplace."

"Right, Eileen--we'll miss yuh," Storey said. "And we better sure enough
see you that someplace!"

There were ragged shouts. "Good luck, kid. So long, Eileen..."

She was gone--a small, scared, determined figure, dressed like a boy. On
her wrist was a watch that might get pawned for a plane ticket.

Ramos was unbelievably glum for days. But he worked harder building
air-restorers than most of the Bunch had ever worked before. "We're
hardcore, now--we'll last," he would growl. "Final, long lap--March,
April and May--with no more interruptions. In June, when our courses at
Tech are finished, we'll be ready to roll..."

That was about how it turned out. Near the end of May, the Bunch lined
up in the shop, the ten blastoff drums they had made, including two
spares. The drums were just large tubes of sheet magnesium, in which
about everything that each man would need was compactly stowed: Archer
Five, bubb, sun-powered ionic drive motor, air-restorer,
moisture-reclaimer, flasks of oxygen and water, instruments, dehydrated
foods, medicines, a rifle,