"Spin ship," she replied immediately, and looked up at him pertly, like a kindergarten child who knows she has the right answer. He groaned. "You said you could do it." "I can ... try," he said hollowly. "But--why, _why_?" "Because," she said bleakly, "I learned long ago that a man grows to love what he has to fight for." "And you were going to make me fight for you and the child--even if the lives of a hundred and seventy people were involved?" "You said you could handle it. I thought you could." "I'll try," he said wearily. "Oh, I'll try." He went out, dragging his feet, his shoulders down, without looking at her. There was a stiff silence. Marcia looked up at Miss Eagen. "It's true, you know," she said. "A man grows to love the things he has to defend, no matter how he felt about them before." The stewardess looked at her, her face registering a strange mixture of detachment and wonder. "You really believe that, don't you?" Marcia's patience, snapped. "You don't have to look so superior. I know what's bothering _you_. Well, he's _my_ husband, and don't you forget it." * * * * * Miss Eagen's breath hissed in. Her eyes grew bright and she shook her head slightly. Then she turned on her heel and went to the intercom. Marcia thought for a frightened moment that she was going to call Jack back again. Instead she dialed and said, "Hospital to Maintenance. Petrucelli?" "Petrucelli here." "Come up with a crescent wrench, will you, Pet?" Another stiff silence. A question curled into Marcia's mind and she asked it. "Do you work on all these ships at one time or another?" Miss Eagen did not beat around the bush. "I've been with Captain McHenry for three years. I hope to work with him always. I think he's the finest in the Service." "He--th-thinks as well of you, no doubt." Petrucelli lounged in, a big man, easy-going, powerful. "What's busted, muscles?" "Bolt the bed to the bulkhead, Pet. Mrs. McHenry--I'm sorry, but you'll have to get up." Marcia bounced resentfully off the cot and stood aside. Petrucelli looked at her, cocked an eyebrow, looked at Miss Eagen, and asked, "Jaywalker?" "Please hurry, Pet." She turned to Marcia. "I've got to explain to the passengers that there won't be any free fall. Most of them are looking forward to it." She went out. Marcia watched the big man work for a moment. "Why are you putting the bed on the wall?" He looked at her and away, quickly. "Because, lady, when we start to spin, that outside bulkhead is going to be _down_. Centrifugal force, see?" And before she could answer him he added, "I can't talk and work at the same time." Feeling very much put-upon, Marcia waited silently until he was finished, and the bed hung ludicrously to the wall like a walking fly. She thanked him timidly, and he ignored it and went out. Miss Eagen returned. "That man was very rude," said Marcia.