tune.'
'Oz, you don't get any fun out of life.'
The little workers were having difficulties. The top of the door was much higher than they could reach; they were now trying to form two-high pyramids, but, having no shoulders to speak of, they were hardly built for the job. Matt said to Oscar, 'Couldn't we give them a hand with that?'
'I'll see.' Oscar went forward and suggested that the cadets take over the job of squirting on the solvent. The mother person looked at him,
'Canst thou grow a new hand, if needed?'
Oscar admitted that he could not.
'Then do not tamper with that which thou dost not understand.'
Using their own methods the natives soon had the door cleared. It was latched but not locked; the door refused to open for a moment, then gave suddenly. They scrambled up into the airlock. 'Wait a minute,' Matt whispered. 'Hadn't we better go easy? We don't know that the infection that got them is necessarily dead.'
'Don't be silly,' Tex whispered back. If your immunizations hadn't worked, you'd have been a sick chicken long ago.'
'Tex is right, Matt. And .there's no need to whisper. Ghosts can't hear.'
'How do you know?' objected Tex. 'Are you a doctor of ghostology?'
'I don't believe in ghosts.'
'I do. Once my Uncle Bodie stayed overnight-'
'Let's get on inside,' Matt insisted.
The passageway beyond the inner door was dark, save for the light that filtered in through the lock. The air had a strange odor, not precisely foul but lifeless-old.
The control room beyond was dimly but adequately lighted; the light from outside filtered softly through the sheathing that still covered the quartz pilot's port. The room was very cramped. The cadets were used to roomy modern ships; the Astartes wings gave her a false impression of great size. Inside she was smaller than the jeep.
Tex began humming something about '-stout-hearted men-,' then broke off suddenly. 'Look at the darned thing!' he said. 'Just look at it. To think they actually made an interplanetary jump in it. Look at that control board. Why, she's as primitive as a rowboat. And yet they took the chance. Puts you in mind of Columbus and the Santo Maria'
'Or the Viking ships,' suggested Matt.
'There were men in those days,' agreed Oscar, not very originally but with great sincerity.
'You can say that louder,' commented Tex. 'There's no getting around it, fellows; we were born too late for the age of adventure. Why, they weren't
even heading for a listed port; they just blasted off into the dark and trusted to luck that they could get back.'
'They didn't get back,' Oscar said softly.
'Let's talk about something else,' Matt requested. 'I'm covered with goose pimples as it is.'
'Okay,' Oscar concurred, 'I'd better get back and see what her royal nibs is doing anyway.' He left, to return almost at once, accompanied by the city mother. 'She was just waiting to be invited,' he called out ahead of them, in Basic, 'and huffy at being forgotten. Help me butter her up.'
The native official turned out to be helpful; except for the control room the other spaces were dark, even to her. She stepped to the door, made known her wants, and returned with one of the glowing orange spheres they used for lighting. It was a poor excuse for a flashlight, but about as effective as a candle.
Everywhere the ship was orderly and clean, save for a faint film of dust. 'Say what you like, Oscar,' commented Matt, 'I'm beginning to get my hopes up. I don't believe there is anything wrong with her. It looks as if the crew had just gone out for a walk. We may be able to put her in commission.'
'I'm ready to throw in with Oscar,' Tex objected. 'I've lost my enthusiasm- I'd rather go over Niagara Falls in a barrel.'
'They flew her,' Matt pointed out
'Sure they did-and my hat's off to them. But it takes heroes to fly a box as primitive as this and I'm not the hero type.'
The mother-of-many lost interest presently and went outside. Tex borrowed the orange sphere and continued to look around while Matt and Oscar gave the control room a careful going over. Tex found a locker containing small, sealed packages marked 'Personal effects of Roland Hargraves,' 'Personal effects of Rupert H. Schreiber,' and other names. He put them back carefully.
Oscar shouted for him presently. 'I think we had better get going. Her nibs hinted that when she left.'
'Come see what I've found. Food!'
Matt and Oscar came to the door of the galley storeroom. 'Do you suppose any of it is any good?' asked Matt.
'Why not? It's all canned. Jigger for me and we'll find out.' Tex operated with a can opener. 'Phewey!' he said presently. 'Anybody want to sample some embalmed corned beef hash? Throw it outside, Matt, before it stinks up the place.'
'It already has.'
'But look at this!' Tex held up a can marked: Old Plantation Hotcake Flour. 'This won't be spoiled-hotcakes for breakfast, troops. I can hardly wait.'
'What good are flapjacks without syrup?'
'All the comforts of home-half a dozen cans of it.' He produced one marked: Genuine Vermont Maple Syrup, unadulterated.
Tex wanted to take some back with them. Oscar vetoed it, on both practical and diplomatic grounds. Tex suggested that they remain in the ship, not go back. 'Presently, Tex,; presently,' Oscar agreed. 'You forgot about Lieutenant Thur-! low.' -
'So I did. Close my big mouth.'
'Speaking of Mr. Thurlow,' put in Matt, 'you've given me an idea. He won't touch much of that native hash, even when he seems to come pretty far out of it. How about that sugar syrup? I could feed it to him from a drinking bladder.'
'It can't hurt him and it might help,' decided Oscar. 'We'll take half the syrup back with us.' Tex picked the cans up, Matt tucked a can opener in his pouch, and they went outside.
Matt was pleased to find Th'wing on watch in Thurlow's room when they got back; she would be easier to deal with than the other nurses. He explained to her what he had in mind, in polite circumlocutions. She accepted a can Matt had opened and tasted, beforehand, and turned her back apologetically while she tasted it.
She spat it out. 'Art thou sure that this will not harm thy ailing mother?'
Matt understood her hesitation, since Venerian diet runs to starch and protein, not to sugar. -He assured her that Thurlow would be helped thereby. They transferred the contents to a bladder.
The cadets talked over what they should do about the Astarte after dinner that night. Matt insisted that she could be made to fly; Tex remained of the opinion that they would be silly to attempt it. 'She might get high enough to crash-no higher.'
Oscar listened, then said, 'Matt, did you check the tanks?' Matt admitted that he had. 'Then you know there isn't any fuel.'
'Then why are you arguing?' Tex interrupted. 'The matter is settled.'
'No, it's not, announced Oscar. 'Well try to fly her.'
'HuhF
'She can't fly and well try anyhow,' Oscar went on.
'But why?'
'Okay-here's why. If we just sit here long enough, the Patrol will come along and find us, won't they?'
'Probably,' agreed Matt.
'Absolute certainty. That's the way the Patrol works. They won't let us down. Look at the search for the Pathfinder -four ships, month after month. If their mishap hadn't killed them, the Patrol would have brought them back alive. We're still alive and we are somewhere near our original destination. They'll find us-the delay simply
