So Harv Diamond gave them the lowdown on the shortage of girls--yet--in Serenitatis Base, on the Moon. Just the same, it was growing like corn in July, and was already a pretty good leave-spot, if you liked to look around. Big vegetable gardens under sealed, stellene domes. Metal refineries, solar power plants, plastic factories and so forth, already in operation... But there was nothing like Pallastown, on little Pallas, out in the Asteroid Belt... Mars? That was the heebie-jeebie planet. Gimp asked Harv how much leave he had on Earth. "Not long, I guess," Harv laughed. "I've got to check back at the Force Hospital in Minneapolis tomorrow..." But right away it was evident that his thoughts had been put on the wrong track. His easy smile faded. He gasped and looked kind of surprised. He hung onto Paul's old swivel chair, in which he was sitting, as if he was suddenly terribly afraid of falling. His eyes closed tight, and there was a funny gurgle in his throat. The Bunch surrounded him, wanting to help, but he half recovered. "Even a good Space Force bubb, manufactured under rigid government specifications, can tear," he said in a thick tone. "If some jerk, horsing around with another craft, bumps you even lightly. Compartmentation helps, but you can still be unlucky. I was fortunate--almost buttoned into my Archer Six, already. _But did you ever see a person slowly swell up and turn purple, with frothy bubbles forming under the skin, while his blood boils in the Big Vacuum?_ That was my buddy, Ed Kraft..." Lieutenant Harvey Diamond gasped. Huge, strangling hiccups came out of his throat. His eyes went wild. The Kuzaks had to hold him, while Mitch Storey ran to phone Doc Miller. A shot quieted Diamond somewhat, and an ambulance took him away. That incident shook up the Bunch a little. A worse one came on a Tuesday evening, when not everybody was at the shop. The TV was on, showing the interior of the _Far Side_, one of those big, comparatively luxurious tour bubbs that take rubbernecks that can afford it on a swing around the Moon. The _Far Side_ was just coming into orbit, where tending skip gliders would take off the passengers for grounding at the New Mexico spaceport. Aboard the big bubb you could see people moving about, or sitting with drinks on curved benches. A girl was playing soft music on a tiny, lightweight piano. There wasn't any sign of trouble except that the TV channel went dead for a second, until a stand by commercial with singing cartoon figures cut in. But Frank Nelsen somehow put his hands to his head, as if to protect it. Mitch Storey, with a big piece of stellene in his brown mitts, stood up very straight. Gimp, at a bench, handed a tiny capacitor to Eileen, and started counting, slow and even. "One--two--three--four--five--" "What's with you slobs?" Jig Hollins wanted to know. "Dunno--we're nuts, maybe," Gimp answered. "Ten--eleven--twelve--" Charlie Reynolds and Paul Hendricks were alert, too.