Duncan smiled. "Long enough to want to get out of here. How is Magnus Porter?"
"He left an hour ago. He'll wear a bandage for a week, but your mask saved him from anything serious. That was quite a gesture, my boy. As I mentioned the other night, you are on report—"
Duncan winced.
"—for a citation for heroism beyond the call of duty."
"You're quite a girl, yourself," Duncan said. "Where are my pants? I have some ore to get out before the next ship. We mustn't return short of cargo, must we?"
"What do you mean, we? You have a term and a half to complete," she said.
"I'm here on a special assignment, and we'll be going out together on the next ship."
"I will, but you—you! What kind of special assignment?"
"Some fuddy-duds down sunward had some foolish ideas about reducing the crew out here by some twenty persons. You know, trying to save money. I'm to report upon your dispensability. I will be pleased to report that the women's contingent is completely and magnificently indispensable to General Fission. Which reminds me, will you have dinner with me when we get home?"
Martha was somewhat paler. She leaned against the door. "And I put you on report!"