d here. Fifty feet away, like a bird's nest,
Snap's instrument room stood clinging to the metal bridge. The
dome-roof, with the glassite windows rolled back now, rose in a
mound-peak to cover this highest middle portion of the vessel.

Below, in the main hull, blue-lit metal corridors ran the entire length
of the ship. Freight storage compartments; gravity control rooms; the
air renewal systems; heater and ventilators and pressure mechanisms--all
were located there. And the kitchens, stewards' compartments, and the
living quarters of the crew. We carried a crew of sixteen, this voyage,
exclusive of the navigating officers, and the purser, Snap Dean, and Dr.
Frank.

* * * * *

The passengers coming aboard seemed a fair representation of what we
usually had for the outward voyage to Ferrok-Shahn. Most were Earth
people--and returning Martians. Dr. Frank pointed out one. A huge
Martian in a gray cloak. A seven-foot fellow.

"His name is Set Miko," Dr. Frank remarked. "Ever heard of him?"

"No," I said. "Should I?"

"Well--" The doctor suddenly checked himself, as though he were sorry he
had spoken.

"I never heard of him," I repeated slowly.

An awkward silence fell suddenly between us.

There were a few Venus passengers. I saw one of them presently coming up
the incline, and recognized her. A girl traveling alone. We had brought
her from Grebhar, last voyage but one. I remembered her. An alluring
sort of girl, as most of them are. Her name was Venza. She spoke English
well. A singer and dancer who had been imported to Great-New York to
fill some theatrical engagement. She'd made quite a hit on the Great
White Way.

She came up the incline, with the carrier ahead of her. Gazing up, she
saw Dr. Frank and me at the turret window and waved her white arm in
greeting. And flashed us a smile.

Dr. Frank laughed. "By the gods of the airways, there's Alta Venza! You
saw that look, Gregg? That was for me, not you."

"Reasonable enough," I retorted. "But I doubt it--the Venza was nothing
if not impartial."

* * * * *

I wondered what could be taking Venza now to Mars. I was glad to see
her. She was diverting. Educated. Well-traveled. Spoke English with a
colloquial, theatrical manner more characteristic of Great-New York than
of Venus. And for all her light banter, I would rather put my trust in
her than any Venus girl I had ever met.

The hum of the d