tly and irrelevantly, "My two brothers were lost on
the _Minerva_ in that action last year off Pluto." She took a deep
breath, which only stressed her figure. "I've applied six times for
Space Service, but they won't take me."

They were in an elevator now. Don said, "That's too bad, Toni. However,
the Space Service isn't as romantic as you might think."

"Yes, sir," Toni Fitzgerald said, her soul in her eyes. "You ought to
know, sir."

Don was somehow irritated. He said nothing further until they reached
the upper stories of the gigantic office building. He thanked her after
she'd turned him over to another receptionist.

Don Mathers' spirits had been restored by the time he was brought to the
door of Max Rostoff's office. His new guide evidently hadn't even
bothered to check on the man's availability, before ushering Mathers
into the other's presence.

Max Rostoff looked up from his desk, wolfishly aggressive-looking as
ever. "Why, Captain," he said. "How fine to see you again. Come right
in. Martha, that will be all."

* * * * *

Martha gave the interplanetary hero one more long look and then turned
and left.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Max Rostoff turned and snarled,
"Where have you been, you rummy?"

He couldn't have shocked Don Mathers more if he'd suddenly sprouted a
unicorn's horn.

"We've been looking for you for a week," Rostoff snapped. "Out of one
bar, into another, our men couldn't catch up with you. Dammit, don't you
realize we've got to get going? We've got a dozen documents for you to
sign. We've got to get this thing underway, before somebody else does."

Don blurted, "You can't talk to me that way."

It was the other's turn to stare. Max Rostoff said, low and
dangerously, "No? Why can't I?"

Don glared at him.

Max Rostoff said, low and dangerously, "Let's get this straight,
Mathers. To everybody else, but Demming and me, you might be the biggest
hero in the Solar System. But you know what you are to us?"

Don felt his indignation seeping from him.

"To us," Max Rostoff said flatly, "you're just another demi-buttocked
incompetent on the make." He added definitely, "And make no mistake,
Mathers, you'll continue to have a good thing out of this only so long
as we can use you."

A voice from behind them said, "Let me add to that, period, end of
paragraph."

It was Lawrence Demming, who'd just entered from an inner office.

He said, even