ped to
hold his head between both hands and swear at it in a running mutter.
Finally he roused himself to go to the bathroom for a cold shower.
Afterward, donning his powder blue Captain's uniform, he went down to
breakfast.

He dawdled over crisp bacon and eggs, glanced at morning editions, and
all the while the ashes of last night's emotional holocaust drifted
through him. Drifted in fitful vagrant thoughts. He should have said
no that first day a year ago. The big law firm made a great to do over
the old document from his ancestor. Unique, they said. The chance of a
lifetime. And by the end of the first meeting Tom was all fired up.
Mining atomic power metals in the asteroid belt would bring the
biggest returns, he said. They would be the only ones allowed to
compete with the Asteroid Mining Corporation monopoly. And now Tom was
building up public excitement in the venture, as if it were a circus.
The damned fool. Why had he let his brother talk him into--

Suddenly, his line of thought snapped, and he was acutely aware of
staring eyes.

He looked to his left, then felt a warm flush technicolor his cheeks.

"Christy!"

Her blond curls making a soft halo around her jauntily raked hat, the
space hostess from his ship gave him a warm smile. She was adequately
stacked, Bill reflected, but there was levelheaded firmness and
resolution in her too. That was why she was hard to handle.

"Good morning, Bill."

He didn't like the accusing gleam in her eye but he was glad to see
her.

"Sit down, Christy. Have some coffee." He held her hands a moment,
then eased her into the opposite chair.

He tried disarming her with a show of great enthusiasm. But the way
she settled herself into the seat, all the while regarding him with
those clear penetrating blue eyes, told him she was going on no snipe
hunt.

"When you kissed me goodbye at the port yesterday, Bill, you said you
were going directly to the field to be with Tom." It wasn't a
statement--it was an accusation.

With an elaborate show of casualness he shrugged his shoulders. "Well,
I was fagged out from this last trip. Decided I'd do better getting a
full night's rest by myself at a hotel."

The waiter brought her coffee, and she left it to cool. She folded her
long tapering fingers on the table, and a delicate lift to her fine
brows gave her an expression of sympathetic concern.

Her smile was regretful. "Rocket men don't drink, Bill. You know it
too. Bad fo