That shut us up. Even the kid, blushing his way back into his seat, set his jaw stiffly at the reminder. And it wasn’t until twenty minutes later, when we’d been dismissed, that I began to feel the ache in my own face from the unrelaxed muscles there.

The same as you gentlemen…

I shook myself hard and walked over to the kid. “Hello, Commander,” I said. “Been here long?”

He managed a grin. “Over an hour, Commander. I caught the eight-fifteen out of Arizona Base. Most of the other fellows were still sleeping off last night’s party, I’d gone to bed early; I wanted to give myself as much time to get the feel of this thing as I could. Only it doesn’t seem to do much good.”

“I know. Some things you can’t get used to. Some things you’re not supposed to get used to.”

He looked at my chest. “I guess this isn’t your first sling-shot command?”

My first? More like my twenty-first, son! But then I remembered that everyone tells me I look young for my medals, and what the hell, the kid looked so pale—“No, not exactly my first. But I’ve never had a blob crew before. This is exactly as new to me as it is to you. Hey, listen, Commander: I’m having a hard time, too. What say we bust through that gate together? Then the worst’ll be over.”

The kid nodded violently. We linked arms and marched up to the sentry. We showed him our orders. He opened the gate and said: “Straight ahead. Any elevator on your left to the fifteenth floor.”

So, still arm in arm, we walked into the main entrance of the large building, up a long flight of steps and under the sign that said in red and black:

Human Protoplasm Reclamation Center Third District Finishing Plant

There were some old-looking but very erect men walking along the main lobby and a lot of uniformed, fairly pretty girls. I was pleased to note that most of the girls were pregnant. The first pleasing sight I had seen in almost a week.