"It's the only way we've got a chance," answered Docchi. "Anti's the only one who can do the job. And I think she'll survive." Jordan adjusted a dial. "Cameron had better hope she will," he muttered. "He'll join her if she doesn't." Docchi glanced hastily at the screen. Anti was hanging free in space, wrapped and strapped in strips torn from the supposedly useless spacesuits. And she was also enclosed in more flesh than any human had borne. The helmet was taped jauntily to her head and the oxygen cylinder was fastened to her back. And she lived. "How is she?" he asked anxiously, unaware that the microphone was open. "Fine," came the reply, faint and reedy. "The air's thin but it's pure." "Cold?" "Don't know. Don't feel it yet. Anyway it can't be worse than the acid. What do I do?" Jordan gave her directions while the others watched. It required considerable effort to find the tools and examine the tubes for defectives, to loosen the tubes in the sockets and pull them out, sending them spinning into space. It was still more difficult to replace them, though there was no gravity and Anti was held firmly to the hull by magnetics. Anti had never been a technician of any kind. Cameron was sure of it. She was ignorant of the commonest terms, the simplest tool. She shouldn't have been able to do it. And yet she managed nicely, though she didn't know how. The explanation must be that she did know, that somewhere in her remote past, of which he was totally uninformed, she had had training which prepared her for this. Such contradiction was ridiculous. But there was rhythm to her motions, this giant shapeless creature whose bones would break with weight if she tried to stand at half gravity. The whale plowing through the deeps and waves has the attraction of beauty. It can't be otherwise for any animal in an environment which it is suited to live in. And the human race had produced, haphazardly, one unlikely person to whom interplanetary space was not alien. Anti was at last in her element. "Now," said Jordan, keeping tension out of his voice though it was trembling in his hand. "Go back to the outside tool compartment. You'll find a lever near it. Pull. This will set the combustion cap in place." "Done," said Anti when it was. "That's all. Come in now." She went slowly over the hull to the cargo ramp and while she did Jordan reeled in the viewers. The lock was no sooner closed to the outside and the air hissing into the intermediate space than he was there, waiting for the inner lock to open. "Are you all right?" he asked gruffly. She flipped back the helmet. There was frost on her eyebrows and her face was bright and red. "Why shouldn't I be? My hands aren't cold." She stripped off the heated gloves and waggled her fingers. "I can't believe it," protested Cameron with more vehemence than he intended. "You should be frozen through."