eir
mouths shut."

"Well, forget about it. It's not a bad idea, but we haven't any bomb."

"Right, cap'n."

* * * * *

But it was Paul who couldn't forget about it. All the rest of the way
back to station, he kept seeing visions of a panel sliding aside in the
nose of a sleek and gleaming ship, while a small rocket pushed its
deadly snout forward, and then streaked off at tremendous acceleration.

Interrogation was brief. The mission had turned up nothing new. Their
kill made eight against seven for Doc Miller's crew, and they made sure
Miller and the boys heard about it. They were lightheaded with the
elation that followed a successful mission, swapping insults with the
rest of the squadron, and reveling in the sheer contentment of being
back safe.

It wasn't until he got back to his stall, and started to write his
father a long overdue letter, that he remembered he had heard Kovacs say
he was going on leave.

When he finished the letter, he opened the copy of "Lady Chatterley's
Lover" he had borrowed from Rodriguez's limited but colorful library. He
couldn't keep his mind on it. He kept thinking of the armament officer.

Kovacs was a quiet, intelligent kid, devoted to his work. Coulter wasn't
too intimate with him. He wasn't a spaceman, for one thing. One of those
illogical but powerful distinctions that sub-divided the men of the
station. And he was a little too polite to be easy company.

Paul remembered the time he had walked into the Muroc Base Officer's
Club with Marge Halpern on his arm. The hunger that had lain undisguised
on Kovacs' face the moment he first saw them. Marge was a striking
blonde with a direct manner, who liked men, especially orbit station
men. He hadn't thought about the incident since then, but the look in
Kovacs' eyes kept coming back to him as he tried to read.

He wasn't sure how he got there, or why, when he found himself walking
into Colonel Silton's office to ask for the leave he'd passed up at his
fiftieth mission. He'd considered taking it several times, but the
thought of leaving the squadron, even for a couple of weeks, had made
him feel guilty, as though he were quitting.

Once he had his papers, he started to get excited about it. As he
cleaned up his paper work and packed his musette, his hands were
fumbling, and his mind was full of Sylvia.

* * * * *

The vastness of Muroc Base was as incredible as ev