"Maybe just normal. Could that be it, Miles?"
Berendt shrugged, glancing closely at his partner. "I know you pretty well, Bert. Something's bothering you. You're pretty moody lately. Perhaps you better not take the Deimos run if you're not up to it. Even Carol has remarked—"
"Carol?" The harshness was in Bert Tanner's voice. And Miles Berendt frowned as he saw the wild light that sprang up suddenly in Tanner's eyes. "So you and Carol have been talking about me!" Tanner almost shouted. "Or is it maybe that you've been talking to Carol—trying to poison her against me!"
Miles showed sudden astonishment. His hands came out of his pockets and he tried to place one of them on Bert's shoulder. "Look here, Bert, you really are upset—"
Tanner threw his arm away from him with a violent movement. "Get your goddamned hands off me, Miles." His voice grated and his hands suddenly formed into fists at his sides.
Berendt frowned, his eyes narrowed in thought now. "I was only half-kidding before when I asked you what was wrong, Bert. Now I'm demanding. What the hell's the matter with you? Every time I mention Carol's name you seem to blastoff."
Tanner laughed suddenly. But it wasn't a pleasant laugh. He moved away from Berendt and stood with his hands resting on top of a glassite table near the window. There was a scale model of a space ship—a trim freighter—resting on top of the table. As Tanner's eyes remained fastened on Berendt, his hand ran along the smooth side of the model ship.
"Women are like a space ship, Miles, or hadn't you noticed?"
Berendt frowned but did not speak.