There was a murmuring around him as he hurried down the corridor. Some doors stood open, showing the various chemical and biological sections. The physicists had their own dome, on the other side of the Hill, and even so were apt to curse the stray fields generated here. If they had come this far to get away from solar radiations, it was only reasonable, as anyone but a chemist could see, that-- The screen stood at the end of the hall, next to the tunnel stairs. Gilchrist checked himself and stood with a swift wild pulse in his throat. Catherine Bardas was using it. He had often thought that the modern fashion of outbreeding yielded humans more handsome than any pure racial type could be. When a girl was half Greek and half Amerind, and a gifted biosynthesizer on top of it, a man like him could only stare. Mohammed Jahangir's brown, bearded face registered more annoyance than admiration as he spoke out of the screen. "Yes. Dr. Bardas," he said with strained courtesy. "I know. My office is being swamped with complaints." "Well, what's the trouble?" asked the girl. Her voice was low and gentle, even at this moment. "I'm not sure," said the engineer. "The domes' temperature is dropping, that's all. We haven't located the trouble yet, but it can't be serious." "All I'm asking," said Catherine Bardas patiently, "is how much longer this will go on and how much lower it's going to get. I'm trying to synthesize a cell, and it takes precisely controlled conditions. If the air temperature drops another five degrees, my thermostat won't be able to compensate." "Oh, well ... I'm sure you can count on repair being complete before that happens." "All right," said Catherine sweetly. "If not, though, I'll personally bung you out the main air-lock _sans_ spacesuit." Jahangir laughed and cut off. The light of fluorotubes slid blue-black off the girl's shoulder-length hair as she turned around. Her face was smooth and dark, with high cheekbones and a lovely molding of lips and nose and chin. "Oh--hello, Tom," she smiled. "All through here." "Th-th-th--Never mind," he fumbled. "I was only g-going to ask about it myself." "Well--" She yawned and stretched with breathtaking effect. "I suppose I'd better get back and--" "Ah, why so, señorita?" replied Alemán. "If the work does not need your personal attention just now, come join me in a leetle drink. It is near dinnertime anyhow." "All right," she said. "How about you, Tom?" He merely nodded, for fear of stuttering, and accompanied them down the stairs and into the tunnel. Half of him raged at his own timidity--why hadn't he made that suggestion?