the paper, if I ever publish it again. I came over because I
wasn't much use at the Coop, and everyone else was busy."

"Doing what?" Gordon asked.

Randolph grinned crookedly. "Running Outer Marsport. The Mother's the
only man everybody knows, I guess--and his word has never been broken
that anyone can remember. So he's helping Schulberg make agreements with
the sections the volunteers don't handle. Place is lousy with people
now. Heard about Mayor Wayne?"

Gordon shook his head, not caring, but the man went on. "He must have
had his supply of drugs lifted somehow. He holed up one day, until it
really hit him that he couldn't get any more. Then he went gunning for
Trench, with some idea Trench had swiped the stuff--so Trench is now
running the Municipals. And I hear the gangs are just about in control
of both sections, lately."

* * * * *

The Chicken Coop was filled, as Randolph had said, but he slipped in and
up the stairs, leaving the news to the publisher. The place had been
cleaned up more than he had expected, and there must have been new
plants installed beside the blower, since the air was somewhat fresher.

He found his own room, and turned in automatically...

"Bruce?" A dim light snapped on, and he stared down at Sheila. Then he
blinked. His bunk had been changed to a wider one, and she lay under the
thin covering on one side. Down the center, crude stitches of heavy cord
showed where she had sewed the blanket to the mattress to divide it into
two sections. And in one corner, a couple of blanket sections formed a
rough screen.

She caught his stare and reddened slowly. "I had to, Bruce. The Coop is
full, and they needed rooms--and I couldn't tell them that--that--"

"Forget it," he told her. He dropped to his own side, with barely enough
room to slide between the bed and the wall, and began dragging off his
boots and uniform. She started up to help him, then jerked back, and
turned her head away. "Forget all you're thinking, Cuddles. I'm still
not bothering unwilling women--and I'll even close my eyes when you
dress."

She sighed, and relaxed. There was a faint touch of humor in her voice
then. "They called it bundling once, I think. I--Bruce, I know you don't
like me, so I guess it isn't too hard for you. But--sometimes ... Oh,
damn it! Sometimes you're--nice!"

"Nice people don't get to Mars. They stay on Earth, being careful not to
find out what it's like up he