or specialists in
the other branches of zooelogy; warm-blooded creatures comparatively
rare; and, according to the original survey team, nothing bacterial that
had overburdened Doc Yakamura's polyvalent vaccine; the kind of planet
that pleased Galactic Survey because it looked promising for future
colonization, come the day and the need.

"The type that skeptics like me view with grave suspicion," I told Moya.
"Like saints, women of unblemished reputation, heroes, politicians--"

"And all Interstel agents," Tony offered dryly.

In the interim, since the divulgence of my part in the Stuart affair,
Moya had thawed somewhat. After all, he and I had been friends at one
time, and the present situation held no brief for head-on, personality
clashes. The phrase "all in the same boat" applies with particular
meaning to spacers. Tony undoubtably figured that 231 might have been
his ship. He even went so far as to express an interest in seeing E-T
from the ground level.

"I work alone, Tony," I said. "But thanks for the offer. Tell you what:
I'll strike a compromise. If I get into serious trouble, it'll be you I
shout for. All right?"

Moya scowled. "Probably a wild goose chase anyway."

But he said it without enthusiasm.

It reads like this: regs require that messenger vehicles be returned to
the Solar System on their miniature equivalents of paraspace drive,
periodically, with complete information as to conditions encountered,
work in progress, et cetera. None had been received from 231. There's a
joke--not at all funny, I'll admit--that concerns itself with just this
situation. It ends with the opening lines of the GS Memorial Service.

* * * * *

The last skull work I did was to familiarize myself with the personal
dossiers of each of 231's crew, paying particular attention to psych
reports. It's a part of my job that I've never liked. But I recognize
the necessity.

The crew seemed fairly typical. The average was relatively
inexperienced, the sort you'd expect on the type of assignment that was
often used as advanced training. I managed to single out several
possibles--men who might crack, depending upon the gravity of the
situation. The captain-designate wasn't one of them; nor was the
survey-team co-ordinator.

GSS 231 was on station--big and reflective and innocently ominous, held
methodically by robopilot in an orbit that matched exactly the rotation
of Epsilon-Terra--precisel