"I don't think so. At least, there wasn't when I was last there. It doesn't really warrant it. There's only the house and a small landing-ground. And a spaceboat arrives and departs every thirty days, so nothing can happen."
"What about boots? Do we have to wear them?"
"You mean gravity-boots?" Delman asked.
Walter Pellinger scowled irritably and shifted his position. "Yes, I suppose so—those heavy things we wore on Borenius and Ziar."
Delman shook his head. "No, curiously enough, we don't. It's only a tertiary planet—less than one-eighth of Earth's volume—but its specific gravity is enormous. Rejuvenite, the rock it's composed of, is one of the heaviest minerals ever discovered. They say—"
"Look, Delman," Walter Pellinger interrupted, "let that blasted man wear his boots, if he wants to. I'm sure I don't care. But for heaven's sake, stop this geological survey! It's bad enough being cooped up in this tub without having to listen to a lot of nursery small-talk."
"Gosh, I'm sorry, Mr. Pellinger—" John Bridge began.
"I wasn't talking to you," said Pellinger curtly, "but, since you've chosen to butt in, I'll say this—you don't belong here. You're a stupid, ignorant lout, and if you worked in any of my stores, which could never happen in the first place, I'd fire you on the spot and the idiot who hired you, too."
"Aren't you being a little unjust?" Curtis Delman spoke softly, but there was an edge of underlying menace in his voice.