Dudley snorted. "Then relax," he growled, "because I can't stop you now. Where the devil did you spend the last thirty-six hours?" She tried a grin. "In the little room where the things are that pump the air. I sneaked in the galley once, when you were asleep. Did you miss anything?" "No," he admitted, thinking back. "See? I'm not enough trouble to be noticed!" Dudley eyed her sourly. There was trouble behind this somewhere, he was willing to bet, or else why had she stowed away? Running from a family fight? When the port checkers at Ericsson saw her--! "How old are you, kid?" he asked. "Twenty-one." The answer was too pat and quickly given. Even the girl seemed to realize that, and she continued talking. "My name's Kathi Foster. You're the next Mars pilot, according to the schedule, aren't you?" "What about it?" She let go of the cable and pushed her weightless body across the control room to his chair. "What's it like on Mars?" she asked breathlessly. _What does she expect me to tell her?_ Dudley wondered cynically. _That the whole population of the colony is only about four thousand? That they still live mostly on hope, dreams, and regular rocket service? That every one of them represents such a fantastic transportation expense that the Commission only sends top-notch people?_ "It's pretty tough," he said. She hesitated over his unhelpful reply, then plunged ahead. "How about taking me along to see for myself?" Dudley smiled with one corner of his mouth. "You're not going anywhere except back to Terra on the next rocket," he predicted flatly. "And I hope your father still has enough hair on his head to own a hair-brush!" "My father is dead." "Then your--." He paused as she shook her head. "Well, don't you have any family? Jobs on Luna are ... limited. The settlements just aren't very big. You're better off down home." Kathi's half-defiant, half-wheedling mask cracked. Her over-painted lips twitched. "What do you know about where I'm better off? If you knew the kind of family I have--." "Oh, calm down!" grunted Dudley, somewhat discomforted by the sight of tears spilling from her blue eyes. "Things are never as bad as you think when you're just a ... when you're young. When we land, we can say you got left aboard by mistake. They'll just send you back without any trouble." "Like hell they will! I won't go!" Dudley stared hard at her, until she dropped her gaze. "You don't understand," she said more quietly. "I ... my family has been kicking me around the law courts all my life just because my grandfather left me his money. They're all trying to get their hands on it, or on me to back up their claims. Do you realize I'm eight--I'm twenty-one and I never lived a happy day in my life? I'd rather _die_ than go back!" "Yeah, sure," said Dudley. "What did you really do to make you so scared of going back? Smack up grandpop's helicopter, maybe, or flunk out of school?"