acemen, a lot Koa evidently knew very well indeed.

Suddenly he began to feel weight. The ship was going into rotation. The
feeling increased until he felt normally heavy again. There was no other
sensation, even though the space cruiser now was spinning on its axis
through space at unaltered speed. The centrifugal force produced by the
spinning gave them an artificial gravity.

Now that he thought about it, brennschluss had come pretty early. The trip
apparently was going to be a short one. Brennschluss ... funny, he
thought, how words stay on in a language even after their original meaning
is changed. Brennschluss was German for "burn out." It was rocket talk,
and it meant the moment when all the fuel in a rocket burned out. It had
come into common use because the English "burn out" also could mean that
the engine itself had burned out. The German word meant only the one
thing. Now, in nuclear drive ships, the same word was used for the moment
when power was cut off.

Words interested him. He started to mention it to Koa just as the
telescreen lit up. An officer's face appeared. "Send that Planeteer
officer to the commander," the face said. "Tell him to show an exhaust."

Rip called instantly to the safety officer. "Where's his office?"

The safety officer motioned to a spaceman. "Show him, Nelson."

Rip followed the spaceman through a maze of passages, growing more
weightless with each step. The closer to the center of the ship they went,
the less he weighed. He was pulling himself along by plastic pull cords
when they finally reached the door marked "Commander."

The spaceman left without a word or a salute. Rip pushed the lock bar and
pulled himself in by grabbing the door frame. He couldn't help thinking it
was a rather undignified way to make an entrance.

Seated in an acceleration chair, a safety belt across his middle, was
Space Commander Keven O'Brine, an Irishman out of Dublin. He was short, as
compact as a deto-rocket, and obviously unfriendly. He had a
mathematically square jaw, a lopsided nose, green eyes, and sandy hair. He
spoke with a pronounced Irish brogue.

Rip started to announce his name, rank, and the fact that he was reporting
as ordered. Commander O'Brine brushed his words aside and stated flatly,
"You're a Planeteer. I don't like Planeteers."

Rip didn't know what to say, so he kept still. But sharp anger was rising
inside of him.

O'Brine went on, "Instructions say I'm to hand you y