tomorrow.”
Cecily leaned back-she had been dancing very close -far enough to look into his eyes.
“Why, you great big damn liar. . . .”
“Ask her, next time you see her.”
“I’ll do just that. In the meantime, for the prize-winning big lie of the year, tell me that next
to Bun I’m the prettiest girl here; not a hard-boiled hard-rock man in a hall gown.”
“I’ll tell you something a lot better than that. You’ve got stuff by the cubic mile that no
merely pretty girl ever did have or ever will have.”
“Such as?” she scoffed.
“If you really don’t know, take a complete inventory of yourself sometime.”
“I have, thousands of times.” “Wrong system, then. Change it.”
She leaned still farther away from him. “You sound as though you really mean that.”
“I do, Scout’s Honor. And Bun agrees with me.”
“She does? I’ll bet she does. You’ve got a nice line, Here.”
“No line, Curly; believe me.”
“It’d be nice if I could … but Here, the chief thinks I have a terrific case of inferiority
complex . . . except he called it `insecurity’ . . . and Babe said . . . do you think so?”
“I’m no psych, so I wouldn’t know. But why in all the hells of space should you have?”
She actually missed a step. “Why should I have! Just look at me! Or can’t you imagine
what it’s like, being the ugliest duckling in the pond all your life.?”
“Can’t I? You have got a complex. Look at me, you dumb . . . what do you think I’ve
been all my life?” She stared at him in amazement. “Why, you’re positively
distinguished-looking!”
“Comet-gas! I’ve always been the homeliest guy around, but I got so I didn’t let it throw
me.”
“Anyway, men don’t have to be good-looking.” “Neither do women. Look at history.”
“Let’s look at Bun instead-one of the most beautiful women who ever lived. You wouldn’t
have . . .”
“I certainly would have. Beauty helps, of course-and I admit that I like it, that she’s a
beauty-but over the long route it isn’t a drop in the bucket and you know it. She’ll still be a
charmer at ninety, and so will you. She’s prettier than you are, but you’ve got a lot of
stuff she hasn’t. What did you think I was talking about, a minute ago’?”
“Sex. Anybody can throw that around.”
“Not the way you can. But that wasn’t it, at all; that’s only one phase. It’s the total
personality that carries the wallop. You’ve got it. So has Bun. And Bobby. Who else
aboard? Nobody.”
“I wonder. . .” They danced in silence for a time. “You could be right, I suppose . . . after
all, you and Maynard and Babe are certainly three of the smartest men I know.”
“You know we’re right. So why don’t you cut the jaw flapping and get down to reality?”
“Maybe you are right. Thanks, Here, the thought is one to dwell on. You know what I’m
going to do?” She giggled suddenly. “I haven’t done it since my Freshman Frolic.” She
drew herself up very close to him, snuggled her head down onto his shoulder, and closed
both eyes.
And thus they finished the dance. He brought her back to a place beside his wife,
thanked her, and turned away toward Barbara.
Cecily stared after his retreating figure. “That’s a lot of man you have there, Bun,” she
breathed, as Smith and Phelps came up to claim them.
“I know,” Bernice agreed.
Ten minutes later, in the improvised powder room, Bernice continued the conversation
quite as though it had not been interrupted. “You wouldn’t by any chance have it in mind
to do anything about it, would you, darling?”
Each woman studied the other. Both were tall and superb of figure. Each projected in
quantity-and not only unconsciously-the tremendous basic force that is sex appeal. But
there all resemblance ceased. Bernice, as has been said, was one of the most beautiful
women of her time. And besides beauty of face and figure, besides strength of physique
and of character, she had the poise and confidence of her status and of her sure
knowledge of her husband’s love. Cecily Byrd, on the other hand, radiated a personality
that was uniquely hers and that made itself tellingly felt wherever she was. In addition,
she had the driving force, the sheer willpower, and the ruthlessly competent brain of the
top bracket executive she had so fully proved herself to be.
“It’d be fun,” the red-head said, thoughtfully. “That would really be a battle.”
“As Here likes to say, you chirped it that time, birdie.” “Ordinarily, that would make it all
the more fun, but I’ll be working like a dog yet for quite a while-I’ll hardly have time
enough in bed even to sleep. So let’s take a rain-check on it, shall we, my dear?”
‘Any time, darling. Any time at all. Whenever you please.” Blue eyes stared steadily into
eyes of Irish green.
Then Cecily shook her head. “I’m not going to try, Bun. I think too much of both of you . .
. and besides, I might not be able to . . . You know, Bun. . . .” She paused, then went on,
slowly, “I never have liked women very much; they’re such flabby, gutless things . . . but
you’re a lot of woman yourself.”
“We’re a lot alike in some ways, Curly-there aren’t very many women like you and me
and Barbara-for which fact, of course, most men would say `Thank God!’ ” “You’re so
right!”
Not being men, the two almost-antagonists did not shake hands; but at that moment the
ice began definitely to melt.
“But listen,” Bernice said. “There are hundreds of men around here. Good men and big
ones.”
Cecily grinned. “But not usually both; and just being big isn’t enough to make me come
apart at the seams. He has to have a brain, too; and maybe what Here just called a
`total personality’.”
“‘That doer narrow the field . . . just about to Lew, I guess . . . but I suppose Executives’
Code cuts both ways.”
“It’s supposed to, probably, but I wouldn’t care about that if he weren’t such a stuffed
shirt . . . but I’m getting an idea. Let’s go hunt Babe up.” Then, as Bernice looked at her
quizzically, “My God, no-who except a half-portion like Bobby would want him? I just
want to ask him a question.”
They found Deston easily enough. “Babe,” Cecily said, you said there’s a lot of tantalum
here. As much as on Tantalia Three?”
“More. Thousands of times as much. Why?”
“Then Perce Train ought to come out here and look it over. I’ll tell the chief so. Thanks,
Babe.”
“Perce Train?” Bernice asked, the next time they sat together. “The boy friend?”
“Not yet. We were knifing each other all over the place, back at HQ, but we’re both on
top now. He’ll be good for what ails me. Wait ’till you see him, sister -and hang on to your
hat.”
“I’ll have no trouble doing that, I’m positive,” Bernice said, a little stiffly; just as Jones
came up, again to dance her away.
Percival Train appeared in less than a week. He was, as has been said, a big bruiser. He
was just about Leyton’s size, and even handsomer. As soon as he got over the shock of
discovering what a hellish planet Rhenia Four was, he became enthusiastic about its
possibilities. He also, Bernice was sure, became enthusiastic about Project Engineer
Byrd.
“But there’s nothing flagrant about it that I can see, pet,” Jones argued one night, just
before going to sleep. “What makes you think so except Curly’s jaw flapping?”
“I just know they are,” Bernice said, darkly. “She really meant it, and she’s the type to.
She ought to be ashamed of herself, but she isn’t. Not the least little tiny bit.”
“Well, neither of ’em’s married, so what’s the dif? Even if they are stepping out, which is
a moot point, you know.”
“Well . . . maybe. One good thing about it, she isn’t making any passes at you, and she’d
better not. I’ll scratch both her green eyes out if she tries it, the hussy-so help me!”
“Oh, she was just chomping her choppers, sweetheart. Besides, I’m as prejudiced as I
am insulated. I’ve never seen anyone within seven thousands parsecs of being you.”
“You’re a darling, Here, and I love you all to pieces. She snuggled up close and closed
her eyes; but she did not drop easily, as was her wont, to sleep.
If that red-headed, green-eyed vixen-that sex-flaunting powerhouse-had unlimbered her
heavy artillery … but she hadn’t . . . and it was just as well for all concerned, Bernice
thought, just before she did go to sleep, that that particular triangular issue had not been