he
best known to Earth's science.

The dielectric constant could be varied at will by a simple electric
field normal to the applied voltage gradient--a field which could be
generated by a couple of dry cells if need be--and ranged from a hundred
thousand to about three billion. For all practical purposes, here was
the ultimate dielectric.

"We did it!" Friedrichs slapped Lancaster's back till it felt that the
ribs must crack. "We have it!"

"Whooppee!" yelled Karen.

Suddenly they had joined hands and were dancing idiotically around the
induction furnace. Lancaster clasped Rakkan's talons without caring that
it was a Martian. They sang then, sang till heads appeared at the door
and the glassware shivered.

_Here we go 'round the mulberry bush,
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush--_

It called for a celebration. The end of a Project meant no more than
filing a last report and waiting for the next assignment, but they ran
things differently out here. Somebody broke out a case of Venusian
aguacaliente. Somebody else led the way to a storeroom, tossed its
contents into the hall, and festooned it with used computer tape.
Rakkan forgot his Martian dignity and fiddled for a square dance, with
Isaacson doing the calling. The folk from the other end of the station
swarmed in till the place overflowed. It was quite a party.

Hours later, Lancaster was hazily aware of lying stretched on the floor.
His head was in Karen's lap and she was stroking his hair. The hardy
survivors were following the Dufreres in French drinking songs, which
are the best in the known universe. Rakkan's fiddle wove in and out, a
lovely accompaniment to voices that were untrained but made rich and
alive by triumph.

_"Sur ma tomb' je veux qu'on inscrive:
'Ici-git le roi des buveurs.'
Sur ma tomb' je veux qu'on inscrive:
'Ici-git le roi des buveurs.
Ici-git, oui, oui, oui,
Ici-git, non, non, non--'"_

Lancaster knew that he had never been really happy before.

* * * * *

Berg showed up a couple of days later, looking worried. Lancaster's
vacation time was almost up. When he heard the news, his eyes snapped
gleefully and he pumped the physicist's hand. "Good work, boy!"

"There are things to clean up yet," said Lancaster, "but it's all
detail. Anybody can do it."

"And the material--what do you call it, anyway?"

Karen grinned. "So far, we've only named it _ffuts_,"