Alpha Say, Beta Do

Precise Doyle Tindar and prim Kay Kanton had themselves duplicated, standard practice for trouble-shooting in space. But the duplicates fell in love—and what happened then was neither practice nor standard!
Doyle Tindar was awakened by the urgent buzzing of the visor-phone by his bed. He grumbled, rolled over, glanced at the view-plate and winced as he saw the fat, grim face of the Control Board Director, Sam Penset. He sat up, yawned, and snapped the set on.
Yeah?
Listen, Tindar, Penset boomed and Tindar turned the volume down. We've got a large pile of trouble. No reports from the mines on Bolus last night. Automatic radio communication absolutely dead. Power plant may have caught a meteor, but it would have to be a large one. Telescope won't tell us anything. Get out there, will you?
Say, I'm on vacation, if you don't mind, Tindar said. What about Bedding? Or Teppen?
Bedding's on a honeymoon, damn him, Penset growled, and Teppen's getting some new teeth planted. It has to be you.
Miss Kanton's going out there tomorrow, Tindar insisted, not relishing a space trip since he was on his first vacation in a year.
I've thought of that, Penset boomed back. She couldn't report fully on the state of affairs. She's a meter-reader. Strictly a control-room worker. Nothing to do with the power plant or the actual mines.
Okay, Tindar sighed, I'll get on it. I'll leave Hessing Field this afternoon. Do I get a bonus?
Yeah, you thief, Penset smiled, but get duplicated. You'll have enough work for two men.
Okay.
And, Tindar— Penset signaled him to stay on the air— I've just thought of something. Miss Kanton had better go to Bolus with you. Might as well clean up the whole mess at once.