rouser," said Banner lightly. "We've got work to do up here. How about getting back to your bunk?"

Two days later they made scheduled contact with the caravan of potato fertilizer and tractor fuel. One thousand sleds, in tandem, were in proper orbit two hundred miles above Sedor II. Their orders provided for a landing on the planet and a short ship-leave, at the discretion of the ship's pilot to refresh personnel.

Banner and Harcraft decided against landing. All necessary contact, now that they were out of hyperdrive, could be accomplished with the ship's radio. Short planetfalls were, psychologically, more trouble than they were worth, often destroying the hard-earned, delicate space orientation which was their only defense against the abysmal boredom.

"It's a dull place anyway," explained Harcraft to Arnold, who had come up to the control room. "It's a mining and processing settlement. Maybe five hundred families altogether. Got a funny religion, too."

"Huh, what kind?"

"Well," began Harcraft breezily, "sort of sacrificial you might say. They believe in killing strangers who annoy their women."

"A dull place," agreed Arnold, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

"Speaking of religion," said Banner, "I just talked to their monitor on the radio. They've picked up twelve big ships on their scanner during the past two days."

"Ankorbades?" asked Arnold quickly.

"Uh-huh. But not what you think. It's Easter time or some such thing at home. They all return to the home planet and stay there for about thirty days in the spring. Religious festival."

"Oh, yeah. They paint themselves blue and howl at both of their moons for a month. I read about it once."

"We'll be home, too, pretty soon," ventured Harcraft, for whom the return journey was subjectively always short.

"Let's hitch up to those sleds," Banner said. "It's time to get going."

Four weeks later two of the fertilizer sleds went out of phase and automatically cut the ship out of hyperdrive.

"A welcome diversion," said Banner to Harcraft, "you are now about to meet your mortal enemy face to face."

"Manual labor? Never," said Harcraft, assuming the pose of a man bravely facing the firing squad. "Patrol duty is my lifeblood. Even freight duty such as this I can stomach. But manual labor! Please captain, let the air out of the ship, if you will, but never shall these hands—"

"Somebody call me?" asked Arnold, appearing silently.

"Yeah," said Banner, "how'd you like to help?"

"Sure, what you got."

"Couple sleds are out of phase. You and Harcraft are going to slip into suits and go out and find the trouble."

Arnold shrugged, "O.K. with me, when do we start?"

"Pretty quick," said Banner, who had turned to look at the ship's spec-scanner. "Looks like we're in a belt of meteorites. We'll be able to match velocities, but we could still be creamed if the path gets too eccentric. Show him the way, Harcraft. I don't want to take any longer than necessary, either. Understand?"

Fifteen minutes later, both Arnold and Harcraft were out of the air lock, each clutching a new phase unit. Harcraft called instructions to Arnold over his suit's inter-com, but within minutes the smaller man was, if anything, more adept at the business of maneuvering himself through the void than his teacher. They replaced the phase unit in the first sled—the fiftieth from the ship—with Harcraft doing the work and Arnold watching.

"Can you do the next one alone?" Harcraft asked.

"Easy as pie," Arnold said. "Where is it?"

"About two hundred sleds farther back. Numbers on the side. Number two hundred sixty-three. Can you remember?"

"I ain't dumb. Where you gonna be?"

"Back in the ship. We'll be waiting for you."

Back again in the control cabin with Banner, Harcraft was about to congratulate himself on inventing the apprentice system, when a piercing scream brought both men to their