Still, the American remembered the first time he had seen Duport. It had been right after the Selection Board published the crew list. Out of the two hundred who finished the training program, the Board had given Duport highest rating. He was not only the youngest ever to enter space, he was the only crew-member of the _Prospero_ who had never been in space before, except of course for the ballistic shoots which were part of training. The American himself had been aboard the _Quixote_ on the first moonshot directed by the U.N. Space Corps. Then they had built the _Prospero_, and he had piloted it on its shakedown cruise in orbit. And the Board had chosen him to fly the ship on its first trip to the Moon. Altogether, it was the fourth shot of the U.N. Space Corps, and the second time he had been on the Moon. He, the American, was the veteran, he had spent more hours in space than any other human being alive. * * * * * And he remembered the first time he had seen Duport. The veteran and the kid. He had met him in the briefing room at the launching site at Christmas Island. The veteran had been studying a thrust table, and the kid had come into the room, half an hour early for the first briefing. The American did not hear him come in. He looked up from his desk, and there he was, Duport, standing at attention in his blue Corps uniform with the silver sunburst in his lapel, indicating active commission. "Christ!" the American had burst out, forgetting himself and speaking in English. "Are you Duport? They told me you were young...." He already knew each of the other crewmen. "Yes sir," Duport answered in English. "I'm afraid I am rather young. Corpsman Duport reports for briefing, sir. I just arrived on the island an hour ago." The American recovered himself. He leaned back in his chair to study the boy. He was blond and had light blue eyes that glittered, and he looked like a high school kid. "_Eh bien, parlons francais_," the American said at last. "Sorry, Duport, I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that it was a shock.... Why are you smiling like that?" "Nothing, sir." Duport's mouth straightened itself out. "What do you mean _rien_? No, tell me, Duport. You should know by now that the Corpsman's first law is that we tell each other what's on our minds. If we're going to be sealed up together in a tin can for two weeks...." "I'm sorry sir, it was your accent. I found it amusing." "Oh, that. You're not the first one. _Eh bien._ Have you been assigned quarters yet, Duport?" "No, sir." "I'll see to it myself after the briefing. You'll find conditions are rather primitive on the island, but you won't be here long. The ferryboat leaves in six days." "Yes, sir." The American was fascinated by Duport's eyes, their unnatural, bright glaze. The boy never seemed to blink. He yet stood at attention, looking down at the older man with unshifting eyes.