His eyes were level with the top of her head as she stood before him, removing the junior executive's insignia from his coat lapels. She worked deftly, her face warmly placid. She placed the old, plain stars on the table beside her and picked up the rayed stars of the senior executive. Quickly she fixed them in his lapels, and then stood back a step. She gave him a soft salute, which he returned. Then she stepped forward and kissed him chastely. "Ah, fine!" boomed the voice of Andrew Greggor from the doorway. "The old ritual! That makes you official, Guy. Like the old superstition about a ship that is launched without a proper christening, no officer will succeed whose insignia is not first pinned on by a woman. Congratulations." "Thank you, sir," said Guy, taking the extended hand. "Now," said Greggor, "dinner is served. Come along, and we'll toast my loss of a fine secretarial assistant. Your swivel-chair command is over, Guy." "We're not sorry," said Laura. "After all, what glory is there in doing space hopping in a desk-officer's job?" "None," agreed her father. "He'll get some now," Laura assured the men. "If those experiments turn out correct," said Greggor to Guy Maynard over Laura's head, "you sure will. Funny, though, I still considered you as my assistant until they handed you the senior's rank." "Still had your brand on him?" laughed Laura. "Sort of," said Greggor. His real meaning was not lost on Guy, who knew that the girl's father was only establishing the official facts of his adventure. * * * * * The dinner was excellent, and the wines tended to loosen Guy's tongue slightly. He forgot his stiffness and began to enjoy himself. He hadn't realized how much he had missed this sort of thing in the year among the Ertinians. They treated him fine, but he missed the opportunity of mingling with people who spoke his language. He looked at the clock. There'd be dancing later--if he could break away, and he hadn't danced in a solid year. Marian Greggor said: "You've been gone a long time, Guy. Can you tell me the tiniest thing of your adventures?" "They were not adventures," said Guy. "Nonsense!" boomed Malcolm Greggor. "Some of them will be out in the open soon. I'll tell you one." "Why can't he?" asked his wife. "He's had his fun--I'm going to have mine," said Greggor, winking at Guy. "He's developed a means of making Pluto a livable place." "No!" breathed Laura. "Indeed. Our trouble there has always been the utter cold. Pluto is rich in the lighter metals--lithium, beryllium, and the like. It has been a veritable wonderland for the light-metal metallurgist. But it has been one tough job to exploit. But Guy has invented a barrier of energy that prevents any radiation from leaving outward and passes energy inward. That'll heat Pluto excellently--with the unhappy result that Pluto will be hard to find save by sheer navigation." "Oh, wonderful."