Einstein's Planetoid

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NICK HARTNETT stepped off the upper lip of the thousand-foot shaft and floated gently downwards. When he had fallen about half the distance, he reached out for a stanchion, grasped it easily and pulled himself gracefully into the lounge-room of the Columbia.

What he saw there was precisely what he expected to see. There was Dorothy Gilbert, curled in a spring-hammock, reading a book. Nick was looking over her shoulder before she knew he had entered.

"Bodie's Parecliptic Orbits,' " he read aloud. "Dorothy, don't you ever think of anything but your job?"

She looked up, smiling, brushing aside a lock of tousled hair that sought her eye. "Often, Nick. But where would we be if I didn't check my courses against those plotted by a competent authority?"

"Just about where we'll be if you do," he guessed, tugging at his ear with long, knobby fingers. "You're my idea of a competent authority yourself."

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