There was an awkward silence. Then Spero guffawed. Carl bit off the angry reply that jumped to his lips. "All right, I will," he said. "How about someone brewing a pot of coffee?" Diane got up and disappeared into the galley. Minutes later, she returned with a tray of containers. She stopped momentarily when Spero, leaning against one of the ports at the end of the companionway, said something to her, then abruptly, she quickened her pace. When she handed Carl the coffee her face was a deep scarlet. Carl Keating stared vacantly out of the blister window watching the fleecy-white rim of the earth roll up toward them. The trip, less than one hour old, was already a hotbed of smoldering emotions. Worst of all, was the fact that things were almost sure to get worse before they got better. Under the best of conditions, space does strange things to individuals cramped together in the confines of a ship. Army records are crammed full of case histories where men, failing to adjust themselves to existing conditions, have reacted in ways which are probably best left in the files. But military men are schooled and conditioned for space, and while complete and mutual understanding seldom exists, there is usually, even as there was between Spero and himself, an unwritten live-and-let-live policy among crew members. But they weren't in the army anymore, and no one seemed more aware of it than Paul Spero. Never a model officer, Spero in his new-found freedom, had become almost unbearably obnoxious. Nor could he expect any cooperation from Stewart Ferguson. He could handle him, he hoped. All of which brought him to the big question. What about Diane? It was probably a paradox that while the more unsavory military case histories were due to men being without women, the proximity of a long-legged taffy-blonde in this case was a factor more conducive to mutiny than harmony. And curiously enough, it was Diane Hamlin herself, who came up with at least part of the answer. She was smart--whether or not she'd been around was a question to ponder over while staring into the star-studded blackness beyond the blister ports. But one thing was certain: the girl had an almost uncanny knowledge of the working's of men's minds, an insight of psychology which she applied diplomatically if not ruthlessly to all aboard. With just the right amount of good-natured tolerance she either ignored or subtly evaded the bluntly-pointed remarks of Stewart Ferguson and deftly sidestepped the impulsive hands of Paul Spero. On several occasions when a crisis seemed imminent, she disappeared--always good-naturedly and on a new logical pretense--into the small cubbyhole to which she'd been assigned. So tactfully was all this accomplished that they'd already passed the halfway mark before Carl realized that he hadn't spoken to her alone since during the preparations. * * * * *