Dr. Gardoma said sharply, "Do you intend to go alone?"

"Why not?" interposed Urteil.  "The heroics are cheap enough.  Of course they'll go alone.  There's nothing and nobody there, and they know it."

"Care to join us?" asked Bigman.  "If you leave your big mouth behind you can fit into a suit."

"You wouldn't crowd one even with yours," snarled Urteil.

Dr. Gardoma said again, "There's no point in going alone if -"

"A preliminary investigation," said Lucky, "will do no harm.  Actually, Urteil may be right.  There may be no one there.  At the worst, we'll keep in touch with you at the Dome and hope that we can handle any Sirians we meet.  Bigman and I are used to handling tight situations."

"Besides which," added Bigman, his gnomish face puckering into a grin, "Lucky and I like tight situations."

Lucky smiled and rose to his feet.  "If we may be excused -"

Urteil at once rose, turned, and stamped away.  Lucky's eyes followed him thoughtfully.

Lucky stopped Hanley Cook as the latter passed him.  He touched his elbow gently.

Cook looked up, his eyes all concern.  "Yes.  What is it, sir?"

Lucky said quietly, "May I see you in our quarters as soon as possible?"

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes.  Is that all right?"

"Fine."


Cook was very little later than that.  He stepped into their quarters softly, wearing the look of concern that seemed a constant part of him.  He was a man in his late forties with an angular face and light brown hair that was beginning to be touched with gray.

Lucky said, "I had forgotten to tell you where our quarters were.  I'm sorry."

Cook looked surprised.  "I knew where you were assigned."

"Well, good.  Thank you for coming at our request."

"Oh," Cook paused.  Then he said hurriedly, "Glad to.  Glad to."

Lucky said, "There's a small matter of the insulation suits in this room.  The ones intended for use on the Sun-side."

"The inso-suits?  We didn't forget the instruction film, did we?"

"No, no.  I viewed that.  It's quite another thing."

Cook said, "Something wrong?"

"Something wrong?" crowed Bigman.  "Look for yourself."  He spread the arms in order to display the slashes.

Cook looked blank, then flushed slowly and grew round-eyed with horror.  "I don't see - It's impossible - Here at the Dome!"

Lucky said, "The main thing is to get it replaced."

"But who would do such a thing?  We must find out."

"No use disturbing Dr. Peverale."

"No, no," said Cook, at once, as though he had not thought of it before.

"We'll find out the details in due time.  Meanwhile I would like to get it replaced."

"Certainly.  I'll attend to it promptly.  No wonder you wanted to see me.  Great Space -"  He got to his feet in a kind of speechlessness and made as though to go.

But Lucky stopped him.  "Wait, this is a minor thing.  There are other things we must discuss.  By the way, before we get to that - I take it you did not agree with Dr. Peverale's views on the Sirians."

Cook frowned.  "I'd rather not discuss that."

"I watched you as he was speaking.  You disapproved, I think."

Cook sat down again.  His bony fingers clutched one another in a tight clasp and he said, "He's an old man.  He's been all mixed up about the Sirians for years.  Psychopathic, almost.  He sees them under his bed.  He blames them for everything.  If our plates are overexposed, he blames them.  Since he's been back from Sirius he's worse than ever, because of what he claims he went through."