"Maybe it won't be so bad," Cleveland said comfortingly. "After all, the judges must know that we're not astronomers or anything—"
"Seems like a heck of a lot of fuss to me," the redhead said, shaking her head. "But I got this far. And even if I get bounced, at least I've met a few nice guys—"
"Lot of good that does," said the blonde, who had started for the doorway of the cabin. "Before you know it, they'll all be shipped out to Mars, and you'll never see them again."
"Yeah?" said the redhead. "Then how about your second-looie?"
The blonde made a despairing gesture. "Well, what can a girl do?" She looked at them imploringly, and then went through the doorway.
"Lights out in fifteen minutes, girls," said a man's voice over the loudspeaker in the corner of the room.
"That's Captain Lester," said the redhead. "Such a doll." She sighed deeply, wound a bright green scarf around her head, and got up from the table. She patted Cleveland's hand. "Cheer up, kid," she said. "You'll feel better in the morning."
The messboys in the spaceport dining room couldn't stop grinning as they wheeled their trays between the crowded tables. The room was filled with an unfamiliar and highly decorative array of attractive young ladies, and the musical din of their voices was an unusual sound in the rough masculine atmosphere. Breakfast had been prepared with extra care, and the girls had responded with remarkable appetites, calling for more up and down the line. It was only until their second cups of coffee were poured that Captain Johannson entered the room, looking a trifle uneasy, and rapped for attention on a water-glass.
"Good morning, ladies," he said briskly, and flushed when they echoed him with giggling "good mornings" of their own. He rapped the glass once more, and tried to keep a straight face.