"Lieutenant," he bellowed. "Haven't you any more sense than to bring contaminated clothing into the engine control room?"

Rip was sorry the deputy commander couldn't see him grinning under his respirator. He said innocently, "No, sir. I haven't any more sense than that."

The deputy grated, "I'll have you up before the Discipline Board for this."

Rip was enjoying himself thoroughly. "I don't think so, sir. The regulations are very clear. They say, 'It is the responsibility of the safety officer to insure compliance with all safety regulations both by complete instructions to personnel and personal supervision.' Your safety officer didn't instruct us and he didn't supervise us. You better run him up before the Board."

The deputy commander made harsh sounds into his respirator. Rip had him, and he knew it. "He thought even a stupid Planeteer had sense enough to obey radiation safety rules," he yelled.

"He was wrong," Rip said gently. Then, just to make himself perfectly clear, he added, "Commander O'Brine was within his rights when he made us rake radiation. But he forgot one thing. Planeteers know the regulations, too. Excuse me, sir. I have to get my men decontaminated."

Inside the decontamination chamber, the Planeteers took off their masks and faced Rip with admiring grins. For a moment he grinned back, feeling pretty good. He had held his own with the s.p.a.cemen, and he sensed that his men liked him.

"All right," he said briskly. "Strip down and get into the showers."

In a few moments they were all standing under the chemically treated water, washing off the contaminated dust. Rip paid special attention to his hair, because that was where the dust was most likely to stick. He had it well lathered when the water suddenly cut off. At the same moment, the cruiser shuddered slightly as control blasts stopped its spinning and left them all weightless. Rip saw instantly what had happened. He called, "All right, men. Down on the floor."

The Planeteers instantly slid to the shower deck. In a few seconds the pressure of deceleration pushed at them.

"I like s.p.a.cemen," Rip said wryly. "They wait until just the right moment before they cut the water and decelerate. Now we're stuck in our birthday suits until we land-wherever that may be."

Corporal Nels Pederson spoke up in a soft Stockholm accent. "Never mind, sor. Ve'll get back at them. Ve alvays do!"

While the _Scorpius_ decelerated and started maneuvering for a landing, Rip did some rapid calculations. He knew the acceleration and deceleration rates of cruisers of this cla.s.s measured in terms of time, and part of his daily routine on the s.p.a.ce platform had been to examine the daily astro-plot which gave the positions of all planets and other large bodies within the solar system.

There was only one possible destination: Mars.

Rip's pulse quickened. He had always wanted to visit the red planet. Of course he had seen all the films, audio-mags, and books on the planet, and he had tried to see the weekly s.p.a.cecast. He had a good idea of what the planet was like, but reading or viewing was not like actually landing and taking a look for himself.

Of course they would land at Marsport. It was the only landing area equipped to handle nuclear drive cruisers.

The cruiser landed and deceleration cut to zero. At the same moment, the water came on.

Rip hurriedly finished cleaning up, dressed, then took his radiation instruments and carefully monitored his men as they came from the shower.

Private Dowst had to go back for another try at getting his hair clean, but the rest were all right. Rip handed his instruments to Koa. "You monitor Dowst when he finishes. I want to see what's happening."

He hurried from the chamber and made his way down the corridors toward the engine control room. There was a good possibility he might get a call from O'Brine, with instructions to take his men off the ship. He might finally learn what he was a.s.signed to do!

As he reached the engine control room, Commander O'Brine was giving instructions to his s.p.a.cemen on the stowage of equipment that evidently was expected aboard. Rip felt a twinge of disappointment. If the _Scorpius_ had landed to take on supplies of some kind, his a.s.signment was probably not on Mars.

He started to approach the commander with a question about his orders, then thought better of it. He stood quietly near the control panel and watched.

The air lock hissed, then slid open. A Martian stood in the entryway, a case on his shoulder. Rip watched him with interest. He had seen Martians before, on the s.p.a.ce platform, but he had never gotten used to them. They were human, still....

He tried to figure out, as he had before, what it was that made them strange. It wasn't the blue-whiteness of their skins nor the very large, expressionless eyes. It was something about their bodies. He studied the Martian's figure carefully. He was slightly taller and more slender than the average earthman, but his chest measurements would be about the same.

Nor were his legs very much longer.

Suddenly Rip thought he had it. The Martian's legs and arms joined his torso at a slightly different angle, giving him an angular look. That was what made him look like a caricature of a human. Although he was human, of course. As human as any of them.

Rip saw that other Martians were in the air lock, all carrying cases of various sizes and shapes. They came through into the control room and put them down, then turned without a word and hurried back into the lock. They were all breathing heavily, Rip noticed. Of course! The artificial atmosphere inside the s.p.a.ce ship must seem very heavy and moist to them after the thin, dry air of Mars.

The lock worked and the Martians were replaced by others. They, too, deposited their cases. But these cases were bigger and heavier. It took four Martians to carry one, which meant they weighed close to half a ton each. The Martians could carry more than double an earthman's capacity.

When the lock worked next time, a Planeteer captain came in. He breathed the heavy air appreciatively, fingering the oxygen mask he had to wear outside. He saluted Commander O'Brine and reported, "This is all, sir. We filled the order exactly as Terra sent it. Is there anything else you need?"

O'Brine turned to his deputy. "Find out," he ordered. "This is our last chance. We have plenty of basic supplies, but we may be short of audio-mags and other things for the men." He turned his back on the Planeteer captain and walked away.

The captain grinned at O'Brine's retreating back, then walked over to Rip.

They shook hands.

"I'm Southwick, SOS Two. Canadian."

Rip introduced himself and said he was an American. He added, "And aside from my men, you're the first human being I've seen since we made s.p.a.ce."

Southwick chuckled. "Trouble with the s.p.a.cemen? Well, you're not the first."

Talking about a.s.signments wasn't considered good practice, but Rip was burning with curiosity. "You don't by chance know what my a.s.signment is, do you?"

The captain's eyebrows went up. "Don't you?"

Rip shook his head. "O'Brine hasn't told me."

"I don't know a thing," Southwick said. "We got instructions to pack up a pretty strange a.s.sortment of supplies for the _Scorpius_ and that's all I know. The order was in special cipher, though, so we're all wondering about it."

The deputy commander returned, reported to O'Brine, then walked up to Rip and Southwick. "Nothing else needed," he said curtly. "We'll get off at once."

Southwick nodded, shook hands with Rip, and said in a voice the deputy could hear, "Don't let these s.p.a.cemen bother you. Trouble with them is, they all wanted to be Planeteers and couldn't pa.s.s the intelligence tests." He winked, then hurried to the air lock.

s.p.a.cemen worked quickly to clear the deck of the new supplies, stowing them in a near-by workroom. Within five minutes the engine control room was clear. The safety officer signaled and the radiation warning sounded.

Taking off!

Rip hurried to the squadroom and climbed into an acceleration chair. The other Planeteers were already in the room, most of them in their bunks.

Koa slid into the chair beside him. "Find out anything, sir?"

"Nothing useful. A bunch of equipment came aboard, but it was in plain crates. I couldn't tell what it was."

Acceleration pressed them against the chairs. Rip sighed, picked up an audio-circuit set, and put it over his ears. Might as well listen to what the circuit had to offer. There was nothing else to do. Music was playing, and it was the kind he liked. He settled back to relax and listen.

Brennschluss came some time later. It woke Rip up from a sound sleep. He blinked, glancing at his chronometer. Great Cosmos! With that length of acceleration they must be high-vacking for Jupiter! He waited until the ship went into the gravity spin, then got out of his chair and stretched.

He was hungry. Koa was still sleeping. He decided not to wake him. The sergeant-major would see that the men ate when they wanted to.

In the messroom only one table was occupied-by Commander O'Brine.

Rip gave him a civil h.e.l.lo and started to sit alone at another table. To his surprise, O'Brine beckoned to him.

"Sit down," the s.p.a.ceman invited gruffly.