ed his leave. Not only that, but the cruiser to which
he was assigned was instructed to follow Space Council security
procedures, which meant the job, whatever it was, was rated even more
urgent than secret!

Commander Jennsen looked up and saw Rip. He snapped, "Did you get all of
that?"

"Y-Yessir."

"You'll get written copies on the cruiser. Now flame out of here. Collect
your men and get aboard. The _Scorpius_ leaves in five minutes."

Rip ran. The realization hit him that the big nuclear cruiser had stopped
at the platform for the sole purpose of collecting him and nine enlisted
Planeteers.

The low gravity helped him cover the hundred yards to the personnel office
in five leaps. He swung to a stop by grabbing the push bar of the office
door. He yelled at the enlisted spaceman on duty, "Where do I find nine
men?"

The spaceman looked at him vacantly. "What for? You got a requisition,
Lieutenant?"

"Never mind requisitions," Rip snapped. "I've got to find nine Planeteers
and get them on the _Scorpius_ before it flames off."

The spaceman's face cleared. "Oh. You mean Koa's detachment. They left a
few minutes ago."

"Where? Where did they go?"

The spaceman shrugged. The doings of Planeteers were no concern of his.
His shrug said so.

Rip realized there was no use talking further. He ran down the long
corridor toward the outer edge of the platform. The enlisted men's
squadrooms were near Valve Ten. So was the supply department. His gear had
departed on the Terra rocket, and he couldn't go to space with only the
tunic on his back. He swung to the high speed track and braced himself as
it sped him along the platform's rim.

There was no moving track inward to the enlisted Planeteers' squadrooms.
He legged it down the corridor in long leaps, muttering apologies as
blue-clad spacemen and cadets moved to the wall to let him pass.

The squadrooms were on two levels. He looked in the upper ones and found
them deserted. The squads were on duty somewhere. He ran for the ladder to
the lower level, took the wrong one, and ended up in a snapper-boat port.
He had trained in the deadly little fighting rockets, and they never
failed to interest him. But there wasn't time to admire them now. He went
back up the ladder with two strong heaves, found the right ladder, and
dropped down without touching. His knees flexed to take up the shock. He
came out of the crouch facing a black-clad Planeteer sergeant who snapped
to