“Does this new world have a moon?” Kennon asked abruptly.
“Yes—in fact it has two.”
“Habitable?”
“No—they’re too small to hold air. But men could live there in domes—but why do you?—oh! I see! I hadn’t considered that point.” Alexander’s hand darted to the phone beside him. “Get me Albertsville,” he snapped. “Yes, my offices—I want Mr. Oliver in purchasing and contracting. Hello—Ward? Alexander here. Yes—everything’s fine. I have a job for you—use your scrambler-pattern two.” Alexander dialed the scrambler code on the second dial at the base of the phone, effectively preventing eavesdropping by beam tappers. “Yes,” he went on. “It’s Project Phoebe. Have you secured title to the moons? You haven’t? Well—you’d better do it before some of our competitors get bright ideas. Sure they know ab
