_Dr. Christina Ryan, Southport, Mars._
And he'd had to choose this time to leave Earth!
Suddenly he was glad he was assigned to the tubes. It was the one place
on the ship where he'd be least likely to run into her. As a doctor and
a courtesy passenger, she'd have complete run of the ship, but she'd
hardly bother with the dangerous and unpleasant tube section.
He dragged his way back, beginning to sweat with the effort. The
_Navaho_ was an old ship. A lot of the handholds were missing, and he
had to throw himself along by erratic leaps. He was gaining proficiency,
but not enough to handle himself if the ship blasted off. Time was
growing short when he reached the aft bunkroom where the other tubemen
were waiting.
"Ben," one husky introduced himself. "Tube chief. Know how to work
this?"
Feldman could see that they were assembling a small still. He'd heard of
the phenomenal quantities of beer spacemen drank, and now he realized
what really happened to it. Hard liquor was supposed to be forbidden,
but they made their own. "I can work it," he decided. "I'm--uh--Dan."
"Okay, Dan." Ben glanced at the clock. "Hit the sacks, boys."
By the time Feldman could settle into the sacklike hammock, the
_Navaho_ began to shake faintly, and weight piled up. It was mild
compared to that on the shuttle, since the big ships couldn't take high
acceleration.
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