Joe Chessman was a stolid bear of a man, short and massive of build. His face, even in repose carried a frown. He was the type who could step out of a barber chair and three minutes later have rumpled hair—the type who could purchase an expensive suit and in half an hour look as though he had slept in it.

A voice behind him said, low, throaty, “Hi, Spaceman. Need company?”

He turned and scowled at her.

“Those off watch aren’t supposed to be on the bridge.” He took in her outfit. “You look like you’re going to a party.” He paused and added. “Quite a party.”

Isobel Sanchez smiled slowly. “I got tired of the everlasting coveralls. Don’t you think this is an improvement?” She turned, for his inspection.

The inspection was rewarding. Isobel Sanchez had the lushness of her Iberian heritage. Her hair black, her complexion olive, her teeth unbelievably white behind equally unbelivably red, full lips. Considering her educational background, she was a remarkably beautiful woman, though in her face there was something not quite there. A something once called breeding.

Chessman growled sourly. “You better get back into your coveralls, Doctor Sanchez. Showing off that body of yours isn’t going to help that ruling of Mayer and Plekhanov about the relations between members of the crew while we’re in space.”

He turned and stared at some of the control dials.

She came up beside him and pretended to look at them as well. And he became conscious of the breast pressing against his arm.

“What ruling?” she said innocently.

“No sex.”

She drew back a step. “Well, really,” she said. “Just because I’ve put on a dress for a change doesn’t mean I’m trying to crawl in bed with you Citizen Chessman.”

“All right,” he said. “Sorry.” He turned back to the ship’s controls and stared at them. He heard her shoes stalk across the bridge and out the entry. Joe Chessman grunted sourly. Actually, Isobel Sanchez had a good deal of attraction for him, which he only partly laid to the fact that there were but two women in the ship’s complement.



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