"Now strip, quick!" He
picked the canister up and twisted four valves.

Before he could get the gun into working position she was out of her
pajamas--the fact that she had been wondering visibly what it was all
about had done nothing whatever to cut down her speed. A flood of thick,
creamy foam almost hid her from sight and Deston began to talk--quietly.

"Thanks, sweetheart, for not slowing us down by arguing and wanting
explanations. This stuff is DEKON--short for Decontaminant, Complete;
Compound, Adsorbent, and Chelating, Type DCQ-429.' Used soon enough, it
takes care of radiation. Rub it in good, all over you--like this." He
set the foam-gun down on the floor and went vigorously to work. "Yes,
hair, too. Every square millimeter of skin and mucous membrane. Yes,
into your eyes. It stings 'em a little, but that's a lot better than
going blind. And your mouth. Swallow six good big mouthfuls--it's
tasteless and goes down easy.

"Now the soles of your feet--O. K. The last will hurt plenty, but we've
_got_ to get some of it into your lungs and we can't do it the hospital
way. So when I slap a gob of it over your mouth and nose inhale hard and
deep. Just once is all anybody can do, but that's enough. And don't
fight. Any ordinary woman I could handle, but I can't handle you fast
enough. So if you don't inhale deep I'll have to knock you cold.
Otherwise you die of lung cancer. Will do?"

"Will do, sweetheart. Good and deep. No fight," and she emptied her
lungs.

He slapped it on. She inhaled, good and deep; and went into convulsive
paroxysms of coughing. He held her in his arms until the worst of it was
over; but she was still coughing hard when she pulled herself away from
him.

"But ... how ... about ... you?" She could just barely talk; her voice
was distorted, almost inaudible. "Let ... me ... help ... you ...
quick!"

"No need, darling. Two other men out there. The old man probably won't
need it--I think I got him into the safe quick enough--the other guy and
I will help each other. So lie down there on the bunk and take it easy
until I come back here and help you get the gunkum off. So-long for half
an hour, pet."

Forty-five minutes later, while all four were still cleaning up the
messes of foam, something began to buzz sharply. Deston stepped over to
the board and flipped a switch. The communicator came on. Since
everything aboard a starship is designed to fail safe, they were, of
course, in normal spac