hose of their pilots."

"I don't understand, sir."

The Commodore looked down at the ball of his thumb. "You're out in space
for anywhere from two weeks to a month. All alone. You're looking for
Kraden ships which practically never turn up. In military history the
only remotely similar situation I can think of were the pilots of World
War One pursuit planes, in the early years of the war, when they still
flew singly, not in formation. But even they were up there alone for
only a couple of hours or so."

"Yes, sir," Don said meaninglessly.

The Commodore said, "We, here at command, figure on you fellows getting
a touch of space cafard once in a while and, ah, _imagining_ something
wrong in the engines and coming in. But," here the Commodore cleared his
throat, "four times out of six? Are you sure you don't need a psych,
Lieutenant?"

Don Mathers flushed. "No, sir, I don't think so."

The Commodore's voice went militarily expressionless. "Very well,
Lieutenant. You'll have the customary three weeks leave before going out
again. Dismissed."

Don saluted snappily, wheeled and marched from the office.

Outside, in the corridor, he muttered a curse. What did that chairborne
brass hat know about space cafard? About the depthless blackness, the
wretchedness of free fall, the tides of primitive terror that swept you
when the animal realization hit that you were away, away, away from the
environment that gave you birth. That you were alone, alone, _alone_. A
million, a million-million miles from your nearest fellow human. Space
cafard, in a craft little larger than a good-sized closet! What did the
Commodore know about it?

Don Mathers had conveniently forgotten the other's claim to five years'
service in the Scouts.

* * * * *

He made his way from Space Command Headquarters, Third Division, to
Harry's Nuevo Mexico Bar. He found the place empty at this time of the
day and climbed onto a stool.

Harry said, "Hi, Lootenant, thought you were due for a patrol. How come
you're back so soon?"

Don said coldly, "You prying into security subjects, Harry?"

"Well, gee, no Lootenant. You know me. I know all the boys. I was just
making conversation."

"Look, how about some more credit, Harry? I don't have any pay coming up
for a week."

"Why, sure. I got a boy on the light cruiser _New Taos_. Any spaceman's
credit is good with me. What'll it be?"

"Tequila."

Tequila was the only conc