Curly, the foreman, said: "Aw, gee, boss. Just a little rhubarb, that's all. Just a little kiddin' around. Boys didn't mean any harm." "Mean any _harm_?" Huber's eyes went so wide they threatened to pop out on the desk. "Chafnu! Show it to 'em." The Martian looked embarrassed. Then he slowly lifted his rope-like foot and displayed the quarter-sized burn on the heel. "Kidding around!" Huber looked dangerous. "That's what you call kidding around? They could have burned Chafnu to a crisp! You know how sensitive he is!" Burke, the small parts man, said placatingly: "Well, the boys are kinda edgy, Mr. Huber. It must be the weather or something. They need a little what-do-you-call-it, outlet." "Besides," said Curly, "the Goons kinda provoke 'em, you know what I mean--" "_Don't ever use that word to me!_" The irritation that had been brewing in Huber all day now boiled over. He walked around the desk and shoved his big-jawed face up close to Curly's chin. His small stature made no difference; Curly trembled nervously. "They're Martians," the boss said. "Not Goons. Understand? _Martians!_ Isn't that right, Chafnu?" Chafnu looked as if he wished Earth had never been born. He glanced up guiltily at the assembled foremen. "All right," said Huber. "Now let's get this straight. One more incident like today, and I'll hold you guys responsible. Chafnu and all the other Martians in this plant are doing good work--better, if you want to know, than most of you Earth guys--" "Sure," mumbled Curly. "If we had three hands, we could--" "That's enough, I said!" shouted the boss. He swabbed his forehead with his hand. "We got Oxco tanks to turn out, so let's get to it. The meeting's over!" The foremen left, more crestfallen than when they had entered the office. Chafnu looked uncertain as to what he should do next. The Martian simply sat and watched Huber go back to his desk. The boss went over to the musaphone and flipped the switch. "My nerves are shot," he told Chafnu. He sat back in his swivel chair, sighed, and closed his eyes. The haunting strains of _Melancholy_ drifted through the office, and Huber listened and slowly relaxed. The Martian just sat there, miserably. * * * * * "Hi, there, fly-boys! "Time to climb into the wild black yonder again, with your old skipper, Vince Vanelli, bringing aid and comfort to all the ships in space. We got a rocket chamber full of new notes and blue notes, all the latest hits from the Bings of Earth to the Rings of Saturn. So buckle your g-belts, and lend an ear to the biggest instrumental smash that's hit the System in an eon. "You asked for it, spacemen, so here it is again. That everloving outer-space symphony--_Melancholy_!" * * * * * The _Pursuit_ was in orbit when the accident happened.