"I'll keep my party small, too," he promised. "Just the wife and—a few nieces."

The Major and his party were already gassed and crated when I arrived at the space-deck for the big jump, so it wasn't until they pulled the needle out of me on Daphne's planet at main base that I got a look at his wife and nieces.

From that moment until we put down on Tigursh II, the shuttle trip was one continuous party. Beside Daphne, there were Annellica, his legal wife, and six variously-hued, large-breasted, slender-hipped young women, each of different planetary origin and talents.

When we were gathered in the cushion-lined salon of the Major's "cosy", 200-foot hunting craft, he introduced them in two sections.

"My wife, Annellica," he said with a casual bow in her direction, "and my nieces." His face brightened with pleasure as he regarded them tumbled around on the billowing underfoot. Although their costumes were of different colors, they were all of singularly identical design. They wore one-piece dresses, demurely high-necked, puffed at the shoulders, belted at the narrow waists—and that was all. The flounced skirts stood out as if heavily starched, but they rippled and floated in the diminished gravity with a most titivating effect.

Annellica wore pants.

I said I was charmed, but actually I was appalled, especially when the Major explained. "I only brought along six nieces this trip. Three for you and three for me."

Where, I wondered, did this leave Annellica? The ship lifted under us without warning, and we tumbled about in a gay tangle of giggles and heavy perfume—all but Annellica and me. We were thrown together, and we lay on our sides motionless, nose to nose, staring into each other's eyes.

"Hello," I said. She heaved herself up against the two-gee pressure and leaned on an elbow regarding me with quiet, gray eyes. Her skin was white, but it was still a relief when she answered in unaccented Aminglish.

"Hello!" she answered. "Thank heavens you speak earth."

At our feet Daphne was tumbling up his galactic geishas with lusty shouts of laughter and gabbling in six different dialects.

"Are you a linguist?" she asked. I shook my head, and she smiled for the first time. "Good!" she exclaimed. "You'll get tired of that bird-talk and pay some attention to me."

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