 Which word doesn't describe Jeffers?
By H. B. FYFE [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Worlds of If Science Fiction, September 1961. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The big moon-face of Jeffers, manager of the Ganymedan branch of Koslow Spaceways, glowered back at him. The glowing semi-disk of Jupiter was more than half a million miles distant. "Try not to be simple—for once!" growled Jeffers. "A little percentage here and there on the cargoes never shows by the time figures get back to Earth. Maybe they live soft back on Earth since the mines and the Jovian satellite colonies grew; but they were out here in the beginning, most of them. Jeffers fidgeted in his chair, causing it to creak under the bulk of his body. It had been built for Ganymede, but not for Jeffers. Five hundred credits a week base pay, five hundred for hazardous duty. "Okay I can't fire you legally—as long as you report for work," grumbled Jeffers, by now a shade more ruddy. He winked and walked out, deliberately leaving the door open behind him so as to enjoy the incoherent bellowing that followed him. Let Jeffers and his gang steal the Great Red Spot off Jupiter if they like! Tolliver began to have his doubts the next day; which was "Tuesday" by the arbitrary calender constructed to match Ganymede's week-long journey around Jupiter. His contract guaranteed a pilot's rating, but someone had neglected to specify the type of craft to be piloted. On the bulletin board, Tolliver's name stood out beside the number of one of the airtight tractors used between the dome city and the spaceport, or for hauling cross-country to one of the mining domes. He soon found that there was nothing for him to do but hang around the garage in case a spaceship should land. He swore when he found the assignment unchanged by "Friday." Sometimes there's no reason but them for sending a ship back with a crew instead of in an economy orbit. Under a portable, double-chambered plastic dome blown up outside the ship's airlock, a crewman helped him load two trunks and a collection of bags into the tractor. Her trim coiffure was a shade too blonde which served to set off both the blue of her eyes and the cap apparently won from one of the pilots. "Sure," agreed Tolliver thinking, Ohmigod!
 clever
 clever  persistent  hot-headed  cocky