TROUBLE ON TYCHO By NELSON S. BOND Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of the Moon Station's existence. But there came the day when his comrades found that the worth of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value. [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Planet Stories March 1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The audiophone buzzed thrice--one long, followed by two shorts--and Isobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc. "Hummm?" he said absent-mindedly. The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commander appeared. "Report ready, Jones?" "Almost," acknowledged Isobar gloomily. "It prob'ly ain't right, though. How anybody can be expected to get _anything_ right on this dagnabbed hunk o' green cheese--" "Send it up," interrupted Colonel Eagan, "as soon as you can. Sparks is making Terra contact now. That is all." "That ain't all!" declared Isobar indignantly. "How about my bag--?" It _was all_, so far as the D.C. was concerned. Isobar was talking to himself. The plate dulled. Isobar said, "Nuts!" and returned to his duties. He jotted neat ditto marks under the word "Clear" which, six months ago, he had placed beneath the column headed: _Cond. of Obs._ He noted the proper figures under the headings _Sun Spots_: _Max Freq._--_Min. Freq._; then he sketched careful curves in blue and red ink upon the Mercator projection of Earth which was his daily work sheet. This done, he drew a clean sheet of paper out of his desk drawer, frowned thoughtfully at the tabulated results of his observations, and began writing. "_Weather forecast for Terra_," he wrote, his pen making scratching sounds. The audiophone rasped again. Isobar jabbed the stud and answered without looking. "O.Q.," he said wearily. "O.Q. I told you it would be ready in a couple o' minutes. Keep your pants on!" "I--er--I beg your pardon, Isobar?" queried a mild voice. Isobar started. His sallow cheeks achieved a sickly salmon hue. He blinked nervously. "Oh, jumpin' jimminy!" he gulped. "_You_, Miss Sally! Golly--'scuse me! I didn't realize--" The Dome Commander's niece giggled. "That's all right, Isobar. I just called to ask you about the weather in Oceania Sector 4B next week. I've got a swimming date at Waikiki, but I won't make the shuttle unless the weather's going to be nice." "It is," promised Isobar. "It'll be swell all weekend, Miss Sally. Fine sunshiny weather. You can go." "That's wonderful. Thanks so much, Isobar." "Don't mention it, ma'am," said Isobar, and returned to his work.