There was a great deal that was crude, and some that seemed to be handmade where American products were smoothly machine made. But generally, it was something to arouse envy in Blane. Obviously, there had been no effort made to save on costs here, and the great Russian boosters had lifted fantastic weights where American engineers had been limited to what ships of lesser thrust would carry. With no restrictions on cost or size, the Russian engineers had simply designed for what they felt desirable, rather than what was possible. The command suite was even equipped with a bar that contained a private refrigerator, though that was now off, due to the need to save power. The quarters of the staff were spacious, and many showed signs of never having been occupied. The laboratories were beautifully equipped, and again less than a third had ever been used. "We had great plans--but now we are limited. The threat of war makes even our leaders hesitate to begin so many long-range plans," she explained. Peal nodded. "You see, Jerry? It's the same here. Waste and inefficiency. This place could make ten times the profit of any other comparable investment, but it's wasted under government control." Sonya darted him a sudden piercing gaze and stopped in her tracks. Then she laughed uncertainly. "You'll forgive me, Dr. Peal. But those words--they were just what I was going to say." "You?" Blane stared at her doubtfully. "Isn't capitalistic talk deviationist, at least?" "Not to an American, and sometimes now not at all." She laughed, as if relaxing from some strain. "We study American economics in our schools, just as we learn your language. Sometimes capitalism seems romantic to us--selling stocks, floating loans, such things. But sometimes I think about what could be done if this were all to be a separate nation, free for all time." They crossed a great empty section of the station, and Blane recognized that they had already been through there twice before. He saw that Sonya was staring at him intently again as he glanced about more carefully. He moved closer to her, his eyes moving from her face to scratches on the floor and back. She shook her head faintly, and he let the question die unasked. They ended the grand tour in her office. The power was already on, and the refrigerator was humming. There was no ice, but there was cold water for the drinks she offered them. "You might stay for dinner," she suggested. Peal seemed embarrassed. "You'll need your supplies ..." he began. "Supplies?" She laughed at that. "Dr. Peal, here we have supplies to last twice our number for a year, even without a ship. You will stay?" Blane shook his head. They'd spent too much time already. She accepted the refusal and accompanied them to the waiting taxi, holding out her hand in farewell. "Sometime, when you need help, remember we are here," she told them. "If there should be any danger or trouble, we are anxious to offer you what we can give."