"Sorry to keep you waiting," she said, sliding into the seat beside Tolliver. "By the way, just call me Betty." "Sure," agreed Tolliver thinking, _Ohmigod! Trying already to be just one of the gang, instead of Lady Betty! Is her old man the treasurer, or does he just know where bodies are buried?_ "They were making dates," said the girl. "Were they ribbing me, or is it true that none of the four of them goes back with the ship?" "It's true enough," Tolliver assured her. "We need people out here, and it costs a lot to make the trip. They found they could send back loaded ships by 'automatic' flight--that is, a long, slow, economical orbit and automatic signalling equipment. Then they're boarded approaching Earth's orbit and landed by pilots who don't have to waste their time making the entire trip." * * * * * He followed the signals of a spacesuited member of the port staff and maneuvered out of the dome. Then he headed the tractor across the frozen surface of Ganymede toward the permanent domes of the city. "How is it here?" asked the girl. "They told me it's pretty rough." "What did you expect?" asked Tolliver. "Square dances with champagne?" "Don't be silly. Daddy says I'm supposed to learn traffic routing and the business management of a local branch. They probably won't let me see much else." "You never can tell," said the pilot, yielding to temptation. "Any square inch of Ganymede is likely to be dangerous." _I'll be sorry later_, he reflected, _but if Jeffers keeps me jockeying this creeper, I'm entitled to some amusement. And Daddy's little girl is trying too hard to sound like one of the gang._ "Yeah," he went on, "right now, I don't do a thing but drive missions from the city to the spaceport." "Missions! You call driving a mile or so a _mission_?" Tolliver pursed his lips and put on a shrewd expression. "Don't sneer at Ganymede, honey!" he warned portentously. "Many a man who did isn't here today. Take the fellow who used to drive this mission!" "You can call me Betty. What happened to him?" "I'll tell you some day," Tolliver promised darkly. "This moon can strike like a vicious animal." "Oh, they told me there was nothing alive on Ganymede!" "I was thinking of the mountain slides," said the pilot. "Not to mention volcanic puffballs that pop out through the frozen crust where you'd least expect. That's why I draw such high pay for driving an unarmored tractor." "You use armored vehicles?" gasped the girl. She was now sitting bolt upright in the swaying seat. Tolliver deliberately dipped one track into an icy hollow. In the light gravity, the tractor responded with a weird, floating lurch.