orbits were developed and the construction of space globes and platforms was discontinued.

At that time, the Interplanetary Guild of Space Guides purchased the satellite and moored it on the perimeter of the System to serve as a headquarters for their activities. They smashed a bottle of wine on it and christened it Outer Port after which every guide got drunk by way of celebration.

It was a bleak establishment. With no solar supplement, it lay in the eternal twilight of far space, the artificial heat of its surface rising against eternal cold thus causing a perpetual fogging of its atmosphere mixture.

So when the Space Queen blasted fifteen hours later, Doree Brandon brightened perceptibly. Professor Brandon remained in the lounge. Nicko was aft, watching the tube primers. Doree was with Mike in the control cabin.

"Getting used to Nicko?" Mike asked.

Doree smiled. "I owe him an apology. He is—" She looked up suddenly. "He is he, isn't he?"

Mike laughed. "Nicko is male. Beyond that point he's hard to classify."

"That odd face! Those green scales! The four arms were a little difficult to get used to but now I think he's—well, kind of cute."

"Good for you."

"Where did you ever find him?"

"On Mars. I'll tell you about it sometime. Right now I've got to finish setting our primary course."

"I imagine you'd like the exact location of the planet as soon as possible."

"No great hurry. Any time in the next twelve hours will do. Just a matter of pin-pointing the arc of the basic course. Your father didn't appear to feel too well when we blasted. How is he now?"

"He's been under a terrific strain. Perhaps we could let him rest awhile."

Mike turned on her sharply. "Listen—I'm going to ask you a straight question and I'd like a straight answer. Does that planet really exist?"

Her eyes widened, her head came up dangerously; and Mike noted this made her extremely attractive. "Now wait a minute. Don't get sore. I'm not implying your father doesn't believe it's there. And after all, I've taken your money, so its a deal but—"

She almost smiled. "You just think that perhaps he's an impractical old dreamer with delusions."

"I didn't say that."

There was a pause while Doree evidently decided not to get angry. "I assure you, Mr. Mallison, I believe with all my heart that father's planet is exactly where he will direct you. Of course nothing is certain in this universe, but—"

Mike grinned and held out his hand. "I believe you. Accept my apology. And please call me Mike. We're going to see a lot of each other for a while."

She took his hand and smiled back. Their eyes held and Mike liked what he saw—pert elfin features; shining chestnut hair; even white teeth.

"We'll let your father rest a while," Mike said. "I'll get the figures from him later."

But he was fated never to get the location of the planet from the old scientist. In fact, he was never again to see Professor Brandon in the confines of the Space Queen.

He finished setting primary course and then Nicko returned to report. "Everything grooved. Temp up. Color down. Tubes solid. Primers closed."

Nicko spoke in four languages. Doree, who understood two of them, gasped.

Nicko grinned. "Thought I was a mental void, eh, kitty? Why I can spit dialects you never heard of."

"Cut it out, Nicko. Treat our clients with a little more respect or I'll pry a few scales off your back."

"Okay, but those legs—that torso."

Mike whirled and Nicko bounced out of the cabin. "You've got to know him. He's completely loyal and he'd die ten times for any one of us. But he never learned tact."

"I don't know why you had to cut him off so abruptly." Doree was indignant.

It was Mike's turn to blink. "He was getting pretty personal—"

"I guess I know a compliment when I hear one, Mr. Mallison."

"Mike."

She grinned. "Okay—Mike. I'd like to see the ship when you've got time."

"I've got time now. Let's go."

They started at the prow and worked backwards. Her trip to Outer Port had been her first space flight, a fact that amazed Mike in this age when even the middle-class Terrans vacationed on Mars.

"We had so little time," Doree said. "And so little money."

He explained the working of the Space Queen, enjoying the chore, and they worked their way slowly backward. Amidship, Doree said, "I think I'll look in on father."

She went below and almost immediately, Nicko appeared at the after end of the companionway. "We've got company, Mike."

"What do you mean, company?"

"Ship winging to."

Mike scowled. "Out here? The radio hasn't spoken. Maybe they're in trouble and can't sound out."

He ran aft, Nicko stumping along behind. He looked out the stern port. A ship all right. A slim cruiser of the D class, the light of faraway suns reflecting against its hull, giving it the ghostly appearance of all craft in space.

"Ever see that ship before?" Mike asked.

"Not me. I'll bet my right top arm it never moored at Outer Port. If it had we'd know the boat."

"Lots of ships never moored at Outer Port. Go forward and see if you can speak to them. Maybe they can sound in."

Nicko left and Mike watched the ship arc closer. Mike admired the skill of the pilot, then realized the ship was on complete automatic, taking its impulses from radar bounced against the hull of the Space Queen. No human pilot could hold a ship that steady.

She appeared intent on locking to the Space Queen's after hatch. Mike wished her all the luck in the universe and hoped he had what she was looking for. In case of illness his stock of medicines was only standard and would not cover any extraordinary cases.

Then he stiffened. There was movement next to the antenna prow on the ship's nose. A small hatch was opening. Mike cursed himself for stupidity. Yet at the same time, he could think of nothing that should have made him suspicious. These were peaceful areas. It would have been ridiculous for bandits to work this area. Raiding here made as much sense as operating in the heart of the Gobi Desert back on Terra.

Even as he whirled to try and reach the control cabin in time, a steel arm shot out from the pit uncovered by the raised hatch. Mike didn't see the fine-wired grid at the end of the arm but he knew it was there and he knew its purpose.

As he ran, he sensed the magnetic wires groping toward the hull of the Space Queen. If they made contact—

Contact was made while he ran up the companionway. The electroparalysis bolt hit him while he was still twenty feet from the control cabin. It caught him on his right toe with his left foot extended. It froze him in that position, held him in the grotesque running pose while fire poured through his veins. It held not only Mike and every other living thing aboard, but froze the ship itself into immobility; everything stopped except the raging movement of flaming gases in the jet tubes and these too died out as their source of supply was speedily choked.

Mike blacked out.

When his consciousness returned, Mike figured he had been out for about an hour. He based this on past experience with electroparalysis rays.

Using every ounce of will-power, he forced his elevated foot toward the companionway floor. The magnetic field permeating the dead ship was still potent, forming, in a sense, a maze of invisible wires, holding him in his frozen position.

He knew that in the companionway he had taken the full brunt of the charge. Possibly the others were again able to move about. But no one came to his aid.

His foot touched the floor. He pulled at his back foot like a man striving to loose himself from thick mud. He got it forward. A step, then another. From the control cabin came the sound of dolorous curses emitted in many