gical, or
psychiatric treatment. It was an exacting service to perform, and Survey
did an exacting job.

Now, with their own home base invaded by a hungry pink jelly-blob, the
Survey Crew of the _Mercy_ dug in with all fours to find a way to
exorcise it.

The early returns were not encouraging.

Bowman, the anatomist, spent six hours with the creature. He'd go after
the functional anatomy first, he thought, as he approached the task with
gusto. Special organs, vital organ systems--after all, every Achilles
had his heel. Functional would spot it if anything would--

Six hours later he rendered a preliminary report. It consisted of a
blank sheet of paper and an expression of wild frustration.

"What's this supposed to mean?" Jenkins asked.

"Just what it says."

"But it says nothing!"

"That's exactly what it means." Bowman was a thin, wistful-looking man
with a hawk nose and a little brown mustache. He subbed as ship's cook
when things were slow in his specialty. He wasn't a very good cook, but
what could anyone do with the sludge from the harvest shelf of a
hydroponic tank? Now, with the _hlorg_ incumbent, there wasn't even any
sludge.

"I drained off a tank and got a good look at it before it crawled over
into the next one," Bowman said. "Ugly bastard. But from a strictly
anatomical standpoint I can't help you a bit."

Green Doctor Stone glowered over Jenkins' shoulder at the man. "But
surely you can give us _something_."

Bowman shrugged. "You want it technical?"

"Any way you like."

"Your _hlorg_ is an ideal anamorph. A nothing. Protoplasm, just
protoplasm."

Jenkins looked up sharply. "What about his cellular organization?"

"No cells," said Bowman. "Unless they're sub-microscopic, and I'd need
an electron-peeker to tell you that."

"No organ systems?"

"Not even an integument. You saw how slippery he looked? That's why.
There's nothing holding him in but energy."

"Now, look," said Stone. "He eats, doesn't he? He must have waste
materials of some sort."

Bowman shook his head unhappily. "Sorry. No urates. No nitrates. No
CO{2}. Anyway, he doesn't eat because he has nothing to eat with. He
absorbs. And that includes the lining of the tanks, which he seems to
like as much as the contents. He doesn't _bore_ those holes he makes--he
_dissolves_ them."

They sent Bowman back to quarters for a hot bath and a shot of Happy-O
and looked up Hrunta, the biochemist.

Hrunta was glaring at paper