"I'm of age, son." -

"Mr. Ekizian, you must be out of your mind."

The dealer took his cigar and stared at the end of it. "Busi­ness is business."

"Well...at least you won't get my boys mixed up in it That's out!"

"Mmm... " said Hazel. "Maybe. Maybe not. Let's ask them."

"They're not of age."

"No... not quite. But suppose they went into court and asked that I be appointed their guardian?"

Mr. Stone listened to this quietly, then turned to his sons.'Cas... Pol... did you frame this with your grandmother?"

Pollux answered, "No, sir."

"Would you do what she suggests?"

Castor answered, "Now, Dad, you know we wouldn't like to do anything like that."

"But would you do it, eh?"

"I didn't say so, sir."

"Hmm – " Mr. Stone turned back. "This is pure blackmail - and I won't stand for it. Mr. Ekizian, you knew that I came in here to bid on that ship. You knew that my mother was to bargain for it as my agent. You both knew that - but you made a deal behind my back. Now either you set that so-called deal aside and we start over - or I haul both of you down to the Better Business Bureau.

Hazel was expressionless; Mr. Ekizan examined his rings.

"There's something in what you say, Mr. Stone. Suppose we go inside and talk it over?"

"I think we had better."

Hazel followed them in and plucked at her son's sleeve before he had a chance to start anydung. "Roger? You really want to buy this ship?"

"I do."

She pointed to papers spread on Ekizian's desk. "Then just sign right there and stamp your thumb."

He picked up the papers instead. They contained no suggestion of the deal Hazel had outlined; instead they conveyed to him all right, title and interest in the vessel he had just inspected, and at a price much lower than he had been pre­pared to pay. He did some hasty mental arithmetic and concluded that Hazel had not only gotten the ship at scrapmetal prices but also must have bulldozed Ekizian into discounting the price by what it would have cost him to cut the ship up into pieces for salvage.

- In dead silence he reached for Mr. Ekizian's desk stylus, signed his name, then carefully affixed his thumb print. He looked up and caught his mother's eye. "Hazel, there is no honesty in you and you'll come to a bad end."

She smiled. "Roger, you do say the sweetest things."

Mr. Ekizian sighed. "As I said, Mr. Stone, your mother is a very smart woman. I offered her a partnership."

"Then there was a deal?"

Oh, no, no, not that deal - I offered her a partnership in the lot."

"But I didn't take it." Hazel added. "I want elbow room."

Roger Stone grinned and shrugged, stood up. "Well, anyway - who's skipper now?"

"You are - Captain."

As they came out both twins said, "Dad, did you buy it?"

Hazel answered, "Don't call him "Dad" - he prefers to be called "Captain"."

"Oh."

"Likewise "Oh"," Pol repeated.

Dr. Stone's only comment was, "Yes, dear, I gave them notice on the lease." Meade was almost incoherent; Lowell was incoherent After dinner Hazel and the twins took Meade and the baby out to see their ship; Dr. Stone - who had shown no excitement even during the Great Meteor Shower - stayed home wrth her husband. He spent the time making lists of things that must be attended to, both in the city and on the ship itself, before they could leave. He finished by making a list that read as follows:

Myself - skipper

Castor - 1st officer & pilot

Meade - 2nd officer & asst. cook

Hazel - chief engineer

Pollux - asst. eng. & relief pilot

Edith - ship's surgeon & cook

Buster - "supercargo"

He stared at it for a while, then said softly to himself, "Something tells me this isn't going to work."

Mr. Stone did not show his ship's organisation bill to the rest of the family; he knew in his heart that the twins were coming along, but he was not ready to concede it publicly. The subject was not mentioned while they were overhauling the ship and getting it ready for space.

The twins did most of the work with Hazel supervising and their father, from time to time, arguing with her about her engineering decisions. When this happened the twins usually went ahead and did it in the way they thought it ought to be done. Neither of them had much confidence in the skill and knowledge of their elders; along with their great natural tal­ent for mechanics and their general brilliance went a cocksure, half-baked conceit which led them to think that they knew a great deal more than they did.

This anarchistic and unstable condition came to a head over the overhaul of the intermediate injector sequence. Mr. Stone had decreed, with Hazel concurring, that all parts which could be disassembled would so be, interior surfaces inspected, toler­ances checked, and gaskets replaced with new ones. The inter­mediate sequence in this model was at comparatively low pressure; the gasketing was of silicone-silica laminate rather than wrung metal.

Spare gaskets were not available in Luna city, but had to be ordered up from Earth; this Mr. Stone had done. But the old gaskets appeared to be in perfect condition, as Pollux pointed when they opened the sequence. "Hazel, why don't we put these back in? They look brand new."

His grandmother took one of the gaskets, looked it over, flexed it, and handed it back. "Lots of life left in it; that's sure. Keep it for a spare."

Castor said, "That wasn't what Pol said. The new gaskets have to be flown from Rome to Pikes Peak, then jumped here. Might be three days, or it might be a week. And we can't do another thing until we get this mess cleaned up."

"You can work in the control room. Your father wants all new parts on everything that wears out."

"Oh, bother! Dad goes too much by the book; you've said so yourself."

Hazel looked up at her grandson, bulky in his pressure suit­. "Listen, runt, your father is an A-one engineer. I'm privileged to criticise him; you aren't."

Pollux cut in hastily, "Just a Sec, Hazel, let's keep personali­ties out of this. I want your unbiased professional opinion; are those gaskets fit to put back in, or aren't they? Cross your heart and shame the devil."

"Well... I say they are fit to use. You can tell your father I said so. He ought to be here any minute now; I expect he will agree." She straightened up. "I've got to go."

Mr. Stone failed to show up when expected. The twins fiddled around, doing a little preliminarv work on the preheater. Finally Pollux said, "What time is it?"

"Past four."

"Dad won't show up this afternoon. Look, those gaskets are all right and, anyhow, two gets you five he'd never know the difference."

"Well - he would okay them if he saw them."

"Hand me that wrench."

Hazel did show up again but by then they had the sequence put back together and had opened up the preheater. She did not ask about the injector sequence but got down on her belly with a flashlight and mirror and inspected the preheater's interior. Her frail body, although still agile as a cricket under the Moon's weak pull, was not up to heavy work with a wrench, but her eyes were sharper - and much more experienced - than those of the twins. Presently she wiggled out. "Looks good," she announced. "We'll put it back together tomorrow. Let's go see what the cook ruined tonight." She helped them disconnect their oxygen hoses from the ship's tank and reconnect to their back packs, then the three went down out of the ship and back to Luna City.

Dinner was monopolised by a hot argument over the next installment of The Scourge of the Spaceways. Hazel was still writing it but the entire family, with the exception of Dr. Stone, felt free to insist on their own notions of just what forms of mayhem. and violence the characters should indulge in next. It was not until his first pipe after dinner that Mr. Stone got around to inquiring about the day's progress.