"I'm glad to know you, Adjani," said Spence, and he meant it.

Olmstead Packer fixed on Spence with keen interest. "Tell us about yourself."

"Me? I… ah… " Spence could not think of a thing to say. "I'm new here. This is my first jumpyear."

"I thought so. This is Adjani's first jump, too. I had one devil of a time trying to get him up here. Cal Tech had their claws in him and didn't want to let him go. You're not from Cal Tech, are you?"

"No-NYU. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it just seems that I remember a Dr. Reston from Cal Tech-but it couldn't be… Why, that was years ago, now that I think of it."

"It's not an uncommon name." Spence could not bring himself to admit that Packer was talking about his father. Dr. Reston-the professor Spence had never known; he did not want to discuss his father's breakdown.

"Did you attend Cal Tech?" asked Spence.

"Stanford," replied Packer proudly. "Though most of my time was spent at JPL. You are engaged in the LTST sleep study, correct?"

"Why, yes-"

"Fascinating work," said Packer.

"And vital," said Adjani. "If we are ever to probe beyond our solar system we must understand the delicate psychological balance between sleep and mental well-being. Can the sleep state be prolonged indefinitely? Is it a function of certain chemical interactions within the brain? Can individual sleep patterns be molded to the changing demands of space flight? Very interesting. Very important questions you are working on, Dr. Reston."

"My friends call me Spence." Now it was Spence's turn to be flattered. Adjani, true to his calling, seemed to know intimately the nature of his work.

"Tell me, Spence, do you think we'll be able to put our crews to sleep for, say, a year or two on a trip between stars?"

"That's a tough one." Spence puffed out his cheeks and let the air whistle through his teeth. "It is not entirely out of the question. Though I admit right now it looks like a long shot. This is still virgin territory we're exploring, you understand. Our expectations are likely to run beyond our abilities for some time to come."

"You are a pioneer, Spence. And a cautious one. That is good." Adjani smiled at him. "Packer asked the question with ulterior motives, I surmise."

"Oh, how so?" Spence raised his eyebrows and regarded Packer with mock suspicion.

"See! What did I tell you? He's a quick one all right. Yes, I admit it. I had something in mind and I though I might get a little comfort from your answer."

"Olmstead is leading the research trip this year since he's taking sixteen of his third-year students with him. He dreads the flight."

"It isn't the flight I mind. It's my third trip to Mars and I get so bored. Five weeks is a long time to occupy oneself aboard a bucket-I wouldn't mind a long nap."

"It would not take five weeks if you and your HiEn theorists would stop theorizing and perfect the plasma drive," jibed Adjani.

The big physicist pulled a hurt face and shook his head wearily. "See, Spence? See what I have to put up with? Now it's my fault that we have no plasma drive. Just between you and me, Dr. Reston, I think Adjani is a saboteur sent from Cal Tech to disrupt our experiments. They would like to be first to patent the plasma-ion drive."

"I've been thinking about coming along on the research trip myself. Director Zanderson has asked me."

"Then you must come, by all means," said Adjani.

"Not so fast. Do you play pidg?" Packer fixed him with a hard look.

"After a fashion, yes. I've not had a great deal of zero-G experience. But I like the game."

"Fine. That settles it. You must come and you must be on our team. The faculty and students always have a pidg tournament during the Mars cruise. It has become something of a tradition, and an object of intense competition. The only trouble is, not many of the faculty indulge in the sport."

"They lose consistently," remarked Adjani.

"I really haven't made up my mind. I have so much to do here…"

"If Zanderson has suggested you go, I would think seriously about it. He does not extend the invitation to everyone. You are fortunate to have it come so soon."

They talked a long time, though to Spence it seemed only seconds, when Olmstead Packer's wife came to pry her husband loose to mix with some of her friends. Adjani excused himself as well and vanished into the press around the buffet. Spence felt naked and obvious, having no one to talk to. The camaraderie he had experienced with the two men evaporated all too quickly.

"I thought I'd never get you back," said a voice behind him.

He turned to see Ari standing there. She seemed always to be popping up unexpectedly. "I'm drifting-save me," he said.

"It didn't look to me like you needed saving. It looked like you were having a good time."

"No, I mean now."

She smiled shyly and said, "I'll save you. Would you like something to eat? Daddy will be most disappointed if you don't at least try the mousse."

"I'd love to try it."

Ari led the way to the buffet and Spence followed gladly. He had begun to feel that above all else he did not want to be lonely anymore.

… THE BUFFET LOOKED AS if it had been attacked by sharks.

"Daddy's pride and joy-look at it now," lamented Ari. She handed Spence a plate and took one herself. "Oh, well, we might as well join in the plunder. Let's dig in."

They inched their way along the table laden with platters and serving dishes containing a varied and exotic fare: shrimp on ice, salmon aspic, sweet and sour meatballs, soufflйs of several kinds, quiches, a great cheddar wheel, cold roast beef and ham, baby lobster tails, relishes and pickles, brandied pears, deviled crabs, avocados stuffed with chicken and tuna salad, petits fours, cakes, and many other delicacies, some of which Spence did not readily recognize.

Not that it made a difference whether he recognized any particular dish. Ari adroitly ushered them through the snarl of elbows and reaching hands and filled both plates while Spence tagged after her trying not to spill anything.

"Oh, no," sighed Ari as they arrived at a great empty bowl; the cut glass vessel appeared to have been recovered from a mud wallow. "Just as I feared. The mousse is gone. Too bad. But I think I know where there may be some more. Follow me."

They edged through the crowd and dodged diners who stood on the periphery holding their plates to their mouths. She led him away from the confusion of the gathering, through a dim passageway, and into a room which had been transformed into a makeshift kitchen; it looked more like the staging area for a major battle. Several employees of Gotham's food service worked over platters, valiantly attempting to reconstruct beauty from the spoils on the plates before them, replacing wilted lettuce and replenishing depleted items. They worked deftly and quickly, shouldered their trays, and faced once more into the fray.

"We should have come here first," murmured Ari. "It's quieter. Here's the mousse, or what's left of it." She picked up a spoon and shook a healthy dollop onto his already overflowing plate.

"It will take me a week to eat all this."

"Nonsense. I've seen you eat. Remember?"

He looked around for a place to sit. There were no chairs in the room at all.

"Shall we join the others?" asked Ari. "I would rather face lions."

She raised an eyebrow. "That was the right answer. I know a place that may not have been discovered. Come along."

They ducked out through a side door and across the hallway into a small vestibule. He gathered the room was a sort of private sitting room. Bookshelves lined the walls on three sides; on the fourth there was a large, abstract green painting above a low couch. A table in front of the couch bore the telltale traces of diners who had eaten and departed, leaving behind the litter of their repast.