Subspace Explorers. E.E. "Doc" Smith

a knock-down-’n’-drag-out fight with UCM?”

      “Precisely.”

      McGuire pondered this shockingly revolutionary thought for a long minute, his callused right palm rasping against the stiff stubble on his chin. “I still couldn’t,” he decided, finally. “Not just ’cause the union’d win, neither. I like it a hell of a lot better here on Earth. If I was young an’ single, maybe. But I ain’t so young yet—” he was all of forty two years old, “—an’ three of tha kids’re still home yet an’ my old woman’d raise hell an’ put a chunk under it. Besides, me an’ her both like ta know where we’re at. So when they get us organized I’ll join tha union an’ work ’til I’m sixty an’ then retire an’ live easy on my pension an’ old-age benefits. Thataway I’ll know all tha time just where I’m at.”

      “I see.” Speers’ voice was almost a sigh. “And you, Bailey?”

      “Not fer me,” the powderman said, with no hesitation at all. “George chirped it—” he jerked his left thumb at the shift-boss, “—about wantin’ ta know where yer at. I got nothin’ much against tha union. It costs, but between it an’ tha outplanets I’ll take the UCM any day in tha week. Hoady Hoadman takes care of his men, an’ out on tha outplanets ya never know what’s gonna happen. Yer takin’ awful big chances all tha time. Too goddam big.”

      “I see, and thanks, both of you. Call Personnel about replacements and go ahead as usual—until you run into a picket line. That is all for now.”

      As the two men left Speers’ office he flipped the switch of his squawk box. “Get me GalMet, please. Maynard’s FirSec, Miss Champ... ”

      “Miss Champion!” The switchboard girl committed the almost incredible offense of interrupting the Super. “Herself?”

      “Herself,” Speers said, dryly. “As I was about to say, the password in this case is as follows: ‘Gem—Little—Operation’. In that order, please.”

      “Oh—excuse me, sir, please. I’ll get right at it.”

      It took seven minutes, but finally Miss Champion’s face appeared upon Speers’ screen; a face startlingly young and startlingly comely to be that of one of the top FirSecs of all Earth.

      “Good afternoon, Mr. Speers.” Her contralto voice was as smooth and as rich as whipping cream. “It has broken, then?”

      “Yes. Four men made themselves so obnoxious that we had to discharge them just now. There has been no talk whatever of unionization as yet, but I expect a picket line tomorrow.”

      “Thanks for letting us know so promptly, Mr. Speers. I can’t get at him myself for fifteen minutes or so yet, but I’ll tell him at the earliest possible moment.”

      “That’ll be fine, Miss Champion. Good-bye.”