sn't appeal. It's nice and warm here. Run along,
boy; I'm sleepy." He curled up in his cradle, wrapped his tail firmly
around his body, and closed his eyes.

* * * * *

There was a line waiting at the entrance to the freezer section, and
Alan took his place on it. One by one they climbed into the spacesuits
which the boy in charge provided, and entered the airlock.

For transporting perishable goods--such as the dinosaur meat brought
back from the colony on Alpha C IV to satisfy the heavy demand for that
odd-tasting delicacy on Earth--the _Valhalla_ used the most efficient
freezing system of all: a compartment which opened out into the vacuum
of space. The meat was packed in huge open receptacles which were
flooded just before blastoff; before the meat had any chance to spoil,
the lock was opened, the air fled into space and the compartment's heat
radiated outward. The water froze solid, preserving the meat. It was
just as efficient as building elaborate refrigeration coils, and a good
deal simpler.

The job now was to hew the frozen meat out of the receptacles and get it
packed in manageable crates for shipping. The job was a difficult one.
It called for more muscle than brain.

As soon as all members of the cargo crew were in the airlock, Kelleher
swung the hatch closed and threw the lever that opened the other door
into the freezer section. Photonic relays clicked; the metal door swung
lightly out and they headed through it after Kelleher gave the go-ahead.

Alan and the others set grimly about their work, chopping away at the
ice. They fell to vigorously. After a while, they started to get
somewhere. Alan grappled with a huge leg of meat while two fellow
starmen helped him ease it into a crate. Their hammers pounded down as
they nailed the crate together, but not a sound could be heard in the
airless vault.

After what seemed to be three or four centuries to Alan, but which was
actually only two hours, the job was done. Somehow Alan got himself to
the recreation room; he sank down gratefully on a webfoam pneumochair.

He snapped on a spool of light music and stretched back, completely
exhausted. I don't ever want to see or taste a dinosaur steak again, he
thought. Not ever.

He watched the figures of his crewmates dashing through the ship, each
going about some last-minute job that had to be handled before the ship
touched down. In a way he was glad he had drawn the assignmen