? Did
they pull you off leave, too?"

He held the acid face until the panel closed, then he brightened a
little. At least, he didn't refuse my proffered hand.

He stood fists on hips, glaring at me.

Finally, he growled: "I had hopes you'd wash out. When I heard you'd
made it, I was plenty disappointed." He shook his head. "You seem
healthy enough, but I still think it's a waste of a good spacer." And
that, apparently, was as close as he was going to come to saying that he
was glad to see me again, because, in the next breath, he reverted to
Starship Master.

"Now, let's have the nexus. All I know is that I got orders to round up
a short crew, was handed a space plan with co-ordinates that were
originally filed for GSS 231 a few months back, with an ultimate
destination of a planet I orbited five years ago."

"You've been there?"

"I just said so, didn't I? Don't they teach you vacuum cops to listen?"

I gave him the background.

He nodded soberly a couple of times, but his only comment was: "I heard
rumors." Then he said: "That's all I've got time for now. We make our
first jump shortly. That'll take us to where 231 went on GSM. From there
on out, we follow her plan precisely."

"Until we locate and grapple, Tony, then we start making our own
mistakes."

"I don't doubt that."

Moya moved to leave, paused, said over his shoulder: "What's this about
old Ben Stuart being cashiered for misconduct?"

"It's true."

His back stiffened and his hands clenched. He turned to face me again.
"I went through the Academy with Ben. How about doing me a favor? For
old times sake. Tell me who it was that put the finger on him. Just give
me a name. I might spot it sometime on a register."

I figured there was no sense prolonging the agony.

"O.K. Ivor Vincent Callum."

Moya's face blanched; he took a backward step and uttered something
under his breath that sounded like the Spanish equivalent of--

He turned abruptly, opened the panel, and stalked out.

Somehow I expected him to come back and ask for details, but he didn't
show.

* * * * *

I won't dwell on the trip. Any schoolboy who watches tridee space operas
can quote chapter and verse and use phrases like "paraspace hops" and
"rip-psyche phenomenon" as trippingly as "Hey, Joey, let's play
swap-strip!" Citizens from Venus and Mars, vacationing on Terra, speak
knowingly, too, whenever they can bring themselves to cease complain