"You've got a one-track mind," I said. "What I'm wondering is what that little witch has up her sleeve. She's behaving like she's done something--it makes me uneasy." Charley looked real angry. He flicked an ash meticulously. "You haven't got a damned thing to gripe about, have you? So, instead of relaxing, you're _imagining_ enormities she could have committed! What a jerk. Why don't you admit it to yourself; she attracts you. Like she does everyone else. Say something nice about her for a change--you don't impress me." "She takes good pictures." Charley laughed, derisively. "I guess you'd like it better if she went space-crazy, like every other dame does here. She ought to drink more, beef more, hell around. Maybe you could stand having her around if you knew she took the guys home with her who would run at the chance. "You're just waiting for her to make a slip. So, you can write her off. But she won't. You might as well save time and admit what everybody figured a long time ago." "You through?" I asked. "Sure." "I'd still like to know what she's been up to." I bent forward and started checking my gear. I was so mad my hands shook. I took out a bottle of hooch and examined it while I calmed down; it was vintage stuff, not home brew. I put it away again. I didn't need a drink, really. Deborah! If it wasn't love it was something just as insidious. I could get real boiled up because of her. _Love_, now there was a fancy word! I toyed with it for a minute and considered it in relation to Deborah. And all I came up with was a mental picture of her mouth--very soft, with the ingenuous, upward curve of an eager kid. It didn't solve a damned thing. I closed my gear pack and looked at the other passengers. Vechi and his boy, Raeburn, were checking gear, too. They spent a little time admiring some scientific gadget Raeburn had fished out for Vechi's approval. Vechi pushed a pointer on a small black dial and sighted us through it; very cool. When they got through playing, they leaned back comfortable-like and looked at us. Since we were newsmen the conversation was bound to be a little formal. Vechi must have known he had a doubtful reputation. I guess he figured we were curious about his berth on the _Starfish_; how come he was riding with the press? Raeburn was a pudgy, balding civil service sycophant. He had little quick brown eyes, a loose wide mouth filled with an unpleasantly self-conscious smile--and practically no chin to balance the naked shine of his brow. He made bad jokes and thought he was quite the boy. Since I was never at the head of the class for tact I started the ball rolling down the center alley. "What's your interest in this trip, Vechi?" I said. I heard Charley sigh resignedly. "I'm a civil engineer," Vechi said. "It seems they need technical people as well as reporters. Technical people to save as much as they can and newsmen to dramatize what hasn't been saved."