case little simulation was necessary. He was not only angry with Miss Morley; he was annoyed with Pat, and felt that he had let him down. Of course, there might be nothing at all in Miss Morley's accusation, but Pat and Sue had certainly spent a devil of a long time over a simple job. There were occasions when the appearance of innocence was almost as important as the thing itself. He remembered an old Chinese proverb: "Do not stoop to tie your laces in your neighbor's melon patch."
"I don't give a damn," he said in his most blistering voice, "about the relations, if any, between Miss Wilkins and the Captain. That's their own affair, and as long as they do their jobs efficiently, we've no right to interfere. Are you suggesting that Captain Harris is not doing his job?"
"Well - I wouldn't say that."
"Then please don't say anything. We have enough problems on our hands already, without manufacturing any more."
The other passengers had sat listening with that mixture of embarrassment and enjoyment which most men feel when they overhear a quarrel in which they have no part. Though, in a very real sense, this did concern everyone aboard Selene, for it was the first challenge to authority, the first sign that discipline was cracking. Until now, this group had been welded into a harmonious whole, but now a voice had been raised against the elders of the tribe.
Miss Morley might be a neurotic old maid, but she was also a tough and determined one. The Commodore saw, with understandable qualms, that she was getting ready to answer him.
No one would ever know just what she intended to say; for, at that moment, Mrs. Schuster let loose a shriek altogether in keeping with her dimensions.
When a man falls on the Moon, he usually has time to do something about it, for his nerves and muscles are designed to deal with a sixfold greater gravity. Yet when Chief Engineer Lawrence toppled off the ski, the distance was so short that he had no time to react. Almost at once, he hit the dust - and was engulfed in darkness.
He could see absolutely nothing, except for a very faint fluorescence from the illuminated instrument panel inside his suit. With extreme caution, he began to feel around in the softly resisting, half-fluid substance in which he was floundering, seeking some solid object for support. There was nothing; he could not even guess which direction was up.
A mind-sapping despair, which seemed to drain his body of all its strength, almost overwhelmed him. His heart was thumping with that erratic beat that heralds the approach of panic, and the final overthrow of reason. He had seen other men become screaming, struggling animals, and knew that he was moving swiftly to join them.
There was just enough left of his rational mind to remember that only a few minutes ago he had saved Lawson from this same fate, but he was not in a position to appreciate the irony. He had to concentrate all his remaining strength of will on regaining control of himself, and checking the thumping in his chest that seemed about to tear him to pieces.
And then, loud and clear in his helmet speaker, came a sound so utterly unexpected that the waves of panic ceased to batter against the island of his soul. It was Tom Lawson - laughing.
The laughter was brief, and it was followed by an apology.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Lawrence - I couldn't help it. You look so funny there, waving your legs in the sky."
The Chief Engineer froze in his suit. His fear vanished instantly, to be replaced by anger. He was furious with Lawson, but much more furious with himself.
Of course he had been in no danger; in his inflated suit, he was like a balloon floating upon water, and equally incapable of sinking. Now that he knew what had happened, he could sort matters out by himself. He kicked purposefully with his legs, paddled with his hands, and rolled round his center of gravity - and vision returned as the dust streamed off his helmet. He had sunk, at the most, ten centimeters, and the ski had been within reach all the time. It was a remarkable achievement to have missed it completely while he was flailing around like a stranded octopus.
With as much dignity as he could muster, he grabbed the ski and pulled himself aboard. He did not trust himself to speak, for he was still