“Look here,” Martin Gunther said. “Do we have two of each of the basic specialists, so that we can divide the party in such a way that neither planet will miss out in any one field?”

Amschel Mayer was beaming at the reception of his scheme. “The point is well taken, my dear Martin, however you’ll recall that our training was deliberately made such that each man spreads over several fields. This in case, during our half century without contact with Earth, one or more of us meets with accident. Besides, the Pedagogue’s library is such that any literate can soon become effective in any field to the extent needed on the Rigel planets.”

Barry Watson met Natalie Wieliczka in a narrow corridor of the Pedagogue. He darted a look up and down the hallway, then held out his arms.

“Ho, Polack,” he said huskily. “Come here.”

She was apprehensive, but she came into his embrace and offered her mouth for his kiss.

She said, “Somebody might see us.” After he had kissed her again, she said, “Barry, this is terrible. All this hiding, this pretending.”

He grinned down into her open face. “Kind of fun, though,” he said. “How lucky can a cloddy get?”

She said, “It’s not fair. Everybody else is conforming to the command…”

“You sure?” he demanded, running his right hand up through her honey brown hair, cut short as befitted shipboard life. She was not an overly pretty girl, by most standards, but she had a gentle, serious sweetness that affected most men, though unbeknownst to herself.

She frowned slightly, even as she suffered his caresses. “How do you mean?”

“I suspect,” he said wryly, “that these few kisses and hugs we allow ourselves at odd moments aren’t nearly as serious as what your pal Isobel is dispensing to just about everybody in the team. Well, everybody but Mayer and myself.”