Briggs looked embarrassed. "Oh. Well, okay. So you can't do planting here. But you could find something to do. You know this fellow Morgan on TW-1? He's got quite a project under way. He's building a miniature Earth."
Towne giggled. "Ambitious fellow—"
"No, really," Briggs said earnestly. "Got himself a plastics shop, and he's making models of every city on Earth. Fabulous thing. Take a lesson, Pace."
The man stood up and went to the viewport of the cabin. "I'm not a child, Briggs."
"That's a lousy attitude," Towne said cheerfully.
"Perhaps," Murchison said solemnly, "you've lost sight of your purpose out here."
"Nuts," said Pace inaudibly.
"We've got reason to be mighty proud of you fellows, you know. You're the real backbone of the space fleet. You're the men who keep the space lanes safe."
"You're only happy when you're griping," Towne said good-naturedly. "That's okay with me, pal. That's the American way, isn't it?" He grinned at the other two. "Just like the Army. Gripe, gripe, gripe." He rubbed the flesh around his middle and yawned sleepily.
"Then there's the radio, of course," Briggs said. "You can always hear a friendly voice."