That game takes strength and wind as well as speed and agility. This being a Wunderland vessel crewed mostly by Wunderlanders, her gravity polarizers maintained the interior weight to which they were accustomed. Nevertheless the Earthman found himself hard challenged. The match ended with score tied and both breathing from the bottoms of their lungs, sweat agleam and animal-odorous on their skins.

“Whoof!” Raden laughed. “Congratulations and thanks. You gave me a good one.”

“The same to you,” Tyra answered. Her tone was warmer toward him than hitherto. It had been fun. And, she must admit to herself, the sight of him was fun too—medium-tall, slim and supple but well-muscled, features Roman-nosed and regular, with bright hazel eyes, beneath wavy brown hair. That doesn't mean I have to fall over you—or under you, said defensiveness.

“Frankly, I didn't expect it from a person of your origins.”

Then why did you invite me to play? she flared inwardly. An approach? Likely. They say you're quite a tomcat. “We're healthy,” she snapped.

“Oh, absolutely. Normal adaptation to a lower gravity. No offense intended, please believe.” Raden shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Foolish of me. I should have given more thought to what I saw, besides enjoying the view.”

He made no pretense of doing otherwise. Tyra's height equaled his, which was not surprising in a Wunderlander woman, but damp T-shirt and shorts clung to a figure as full and robust as that of any Earthling female in good condition. Flaxen hair in a pageboy cut framed a face strong-boned and blunt, where little save a few fine lines at the blue eyes hinted at an age of about forty terrestrial years, perhaps three more than his. “You'd be unusually athletic on any planet,” he added.

She shrugged. “I'm not obsessed with aerobics. I just enjoy some activities.”