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“Perfectly, sir.” Nothing could have been clearer. I was to run the ship, and Inverness and his crew were to run me. I could just imagine how Correy, my fighting first officer, would take this bit of news. The mental picture almost made me laugh, disgusted as I was.

“Written orders will, of course, be given you before departure. I believe that’s all. Good luck, Commander!” The Chief offered his hand briefly, and then hurried back to the other room where the Silver-sleeves had gathered to make more rulings for the confusion of the Service.

* * * * *

“Since when,” asked Correy bitterly, “are we running excursions for civilians? We’ll be personally conducting elderly ladies next thing.”

“Or put on Attached Police Service,” growled Hendricks, referring to the poor devils who, in those days, policed the air-lanes of the populated worlds, cruising over the same pitiful routes day after day, never rising beyond the fringe of the stratosphere.

“Perhaps,” suggested the level-headed Kincaide, “it isn’t as bad as it sounds. Didn’t you, say, sir, that this Inverness was rather a decent sort of chap?”

I nodded.

“Very much so. You’d scarcely take him for a scientist.”

“And our destination is–what?” asked Kincaide.

“That I don’t know. Inverness is to give us that information when he arrives, which will be very shortly, if he is on time.”

“Our destination,” said Correy, “will probably be some little ball of mud with a tricky atmosphere or some freak vegetation they want to study. I’d rather–“

A sharp rap on the door of the navigating room, where we had gathered for an informal council of war, interrupted.

“Party of three civilians at the main exit port, Port Number One, sir,” reported the sub-officer of the guard. “One sent his name: Carlos Inverness.”

“Very good. Admit them at once, and recall the outer guards. We are leaving immediately.”

As the guard saluted and hurried away, I nodded to Correy. “Have the operating room crew report for duty at once,” I ordered, “and ask Sub-officer Scholey to superintend the sealing of the ports. Mr. Kincaide, will you take the first watch as navigating officer? Lift her easily until we determine our objective and can set a course; this is like shoving off with sealed orders.”

“Worse,” said Hendricks unhappily. “Sealed orders promise something interesting, and–“

“Carlos Inverness and party,” announced the guard from the doorway.

Inverness nodded to me in friendly fashion and indicated his two companions.

“Commander Hanson,” he said, “permit me to present Godar Tipene and Cleve Brady, who are my companions on this expedition.” I bowed, and shook hands with Brady; Tipene was a Zenian, and hence did not offer me this greeting of Earth. Then, quickly, I completed the round of introductions, studying Inverness’s companions with interest as I did so.

* * * * *

Brady was short, and rather red-faced; a beefy, taciturn type, with a trap-like mouth and thoughtful discerning eyes. He struck me as being one with whom most men would like to be friendly, but who would have exceedingly few friends.

The Zenian was a perfect foil for him. Tipene was exceedingly tall and slender, like all his race, and very dark. His eyes were almost womanly in their softness, and he had the nervous grace of a thoroughbred–which is an Earth animal of particularly high breeding, raised for show purposes. He had the happy faculty of speaking the language of Earth without a trace of Zenian or Universal accent; the Zenians are exceeded by none in linguistic ability, which was a real accomplishment before these decadent days when native languages are slipping so rapidly into obscurity.

“And now,” said Inverness crisply, when the introductions were over, “I presume you’ll wish to know something about our destination and the objects of this expedition, sir?”