“That’s right. The _foremost_ heat and rocket scientist.” Soleri moved the glass aside. “As you know, present rockets are pretty poor. They take us around the solar system, but that’s all. And they don’t do that very well. Anyway, there’s mathematical proof that the theoretically perfect rocket motor can be built. We’ve been working on it for the past six years.” “Why come to me?” said Talbot. “I can’t help.” “Don’t be so sure. We want your empathy.” “You can have it,” said Talbot. “Look. One point five on the card, maybe actually one point four by now. It levels off. You know the standard curve as well as I do.” “The standard curve doesn’t always fit. That’s what I want to discuss.” Talbot might have stayed to talk it over, but he caught a strong surge of panic from the executive. Panic or trouble--or both. He didn’t want either. He had quite enough of his own. It wasn’t every day he lost his job and his girl walked out on him. “I don’t feel in the mood for hashing this over,” he affirmed. “You’re expecting a woman anyway.” Soleri smiled quizzically. “See? I told you that you’re underestimating the strength of your empathy.” “Nothing to it. You were looking at every pair of legs that came by.” “I don’t think it was that easy. Why don’t you wait? Randy will be here any minute.” Talbot shook his head. “There’s no telling what Laura will do when she wanders out like this. She won’t go home, that’s for sure.” “I wish you’d reconsider.” “You can’t get a test tonight,” argued Talbot. “And a test is the only thing that will give us real information. I know what you’re going to suggest--that I come in tomorrow morning. Fine. So I’ll do it--tomorrow morning.” Again Soleri smiled. “I said that you were my man. Now I’m sure of it. Will you come in early, at seven thirty, say?” Talbot could feel the other’s panic diminish. Maybe he was even better than he thought--if he could produce that effect just by agreeing. “Seven thirty is pretty early,” he said. “There’s a reason for it,” Soleri assured him. “I bet.” Soleri took out a card and scribbled some careful directions on it. “Here,” he said. “Come in this way. Just walk right in. There won’t be anyone there at that hour of the morning except me.” “Sure.” Talbot stuffed the card in his pocket and wandered over to the screen booth. He had trouble getting the connection, but when he did her father answered. He had been correct in his assumption. He came out of the booth and stood for an instant at the bar, gulping down a drink. His head turned to follow the progress of a woman who had just entered the cafe. She had deep brown eyes and blonde hair, and a great deal more. That helped. She was not only pretty--she was spectacular. He liked spectacular women.