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"And this is different from what we're now doing how? Besides, look at the size of it. It's gonna be like living on a moon-or in one. Thousands of decks. You can scan it and plug it so that everything a man could want will be somewhere in that sucker. Who needs shore leave when all you have to do is punch up the turbolift?"

Erne allowed as how Tenn's evaluation of the Death Star's prurient possibilities made much sense. Both men drank more of their ales.

"I've already told my exec I'm ready to sign on," Tenn said. "Soon as they get a gun working, enough air to breathe, and enough gravity to tell which way's up, I'm there."

"Speaking of everything a man could want said. He nodded at the door.

," Erne

Tenn turned. Ah. A pair of civilian workers from Supply- young, good-looking fems-stood there, having come, no doubt, to check out a place where real men drank.

"I like the blond," Erne said.

"Fine by me," Tenn said. "Hair's all the same color in the dark."

Erne stood. "Good evening, ladies. Might my father and I buy you both drinks?"

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