lve were lean of face, with hair cropped to
the regulation half inch. Rip was the only redhead among them.

"Sit down," Barris commanded. "Here's my speech."

The twelve seated themselves on plastic stools. Major Barris remained
standing.

"Well," he began soberly, "you are now officers of the Special Order
Squadrons. You're Planeteers. You are lieutenants by order of the Space
Council, Federation of Free Governments. And--space protect you!--to
yourselves you're supermen. But never forget this: To ordinary spacemen,
you're just plain simps. You're trouble in a black tunic. They have about
as much use for you as they have for leaks in their air locks. Some of
the spacemen have been high-vacking for twenty years or more, and they're
tough. They're as nasty as a Callistan _teekal_. They like to eat
Planeteer junior officers for breakfast."

Lt. Felipe "Flip" Villa asked, "With salt, Joe?"

Major Barris sighed. "No use trying to tell you space chicks anything.
You're lieutenants now, and a lieutenant has the thickest skull of any
rank, no matter what service he belongs to."

Rip realized that Barris had not been joking, no matter how flippant his
speech. "Go ahead," he urged. "Finish what you were going to say."

"Okay. I'll make it short. Then you can catch the Terra rocket and take
your eight weeks' Earth leave. You won't really know what I'm talking
about until you've batted around space for a while. All I have to say
adds up to one thing. You won't like it, because it doesn't sound
scientific. That doesn't mean it isn't good science, because it is. Just
remember this: When you're in a jam, trust your hunch and not your head."

The twelve stared at him, openmouthed. For six years they had been taught
to rely on scientific methods. Now their best instructor and senior
officer was telling them just the opposite!

Rip started to object, but then he caught a glimmer of meaning. He stuck
out his hand. "Thanks, Joe. I hope we'll meet again."

Barris grinned. "We will, Rip. I'll ask for you as a platoon commander
when they assign me to cleaning up the goopies on Ganymede." This was the
major's idea of the worst Planeteer job in the solar system.

The group shook hands all around; then the young officers broke for the
door on the run. The Terra rocket was blasting off in five minutes, and
they were to be on it.

Rip joined Flip Villa, and they jumped on the high-speed track that would
whisk them to Valve Two on the