"This is Jed Cochrane. I asked for a visiphone contact with Mr.
Hopkins."

He had a secretary on the phone-screen. She looked at memos and said
pleasantly:

"Oh, yes. Mr. Hopkins is at dinner. He said he couldn't be disturbed,
but for you to go on to the moon according to your instructions, Mr.
Cochrane."

Cochrane hung up and raged, with one part of his mind. Another part--and
he despised it--began to argue that after all, he had better wait before
thinking there was any intent to humiliate him. After all, his orders
must have been issued with due consideration. The third part disliked
the other two parts intensely--one for raging without daring to speak,
and one for trying to find alibis for not even raging. He went back to
the ticket-desk. The clerk said heartily:

"Here you are! The rest of your party's already on board, Mr. Cochrane.
You'd better hurry! Take-off's in five minutes."

Holden joined him. They went through the gate and got into the
tender-vehicle that would rush them out to the rocket. Holden said
heavily:

"I was waiting for you and hoping you wouldn't come. I'm not a good
traveller, Jed."

The small vehicle rushed. To a city man, the dark expanse of the
space-port was astounding. Then a spidery metal framework swallowed the