As the atmosphere of Pluto fell away behind him, Marcius wondered that he felt no acceleration. Then he remembered a faint something which he had detected in the thoughts of his instructor, something about increased momentum being induced into each individual atom, so that each retained its normal position to that of every other. But Marcius was not the kind to spend much time on thinking of such complicated matters. Instead, he lapsed into an ecstasy of evil dreams, dreams in which he was again the mighty monarch, this time of Earth. * * * * * As the little ship drove on through space, Marcius pictured himself walking in on the members of the Council--he would have gained his rightful place as ruler by then, of course--and chuckled at the expressions he imagined on their faces, mouths hanging open, eyes many times too large, and their heads hanging nearly to their belts. Someone was kneeling before him. It was the Martian member and his eyes were tightly closed against the stinging tears while his thin hands were clasped before him, praying to Marcius to have mercy. Marcius was about to order them strung end to end and dangled, for the rest of their lives from an over-hanging cliff, when he became aware of his present surroundings with a start. Time to start decelerating. Sighing, he reached for the proper lever and pulled it back. For a moment, nothing happened. Then the ship seemed to shake itself and Marcius was half lifted from his seat. It couldn't be! The decelerating force should act equally on his body and the ship. How, then, could he be thrown forward? Something bumped lightly against his helmet and drifted on by. Only for a moment did he stare blankly at the little silvery sphere, then the nose of the ship came away with a weird plopping hiss, and he was jerked through the opening by the force of the escaping air. In confusion, he tried to swing his body around so that he could see what had happened. He twisted his shoulders around, but his hips turned equally in an opposite direction. To halt one meant to halt the other. He tried kicking his legs back hard, but only succeeded in arching his body and wrenching his back. Desperately, he began kicking and squirming like a mad dancer. Each motion depended upon an equal and opposite motion of his body. [Illustration: _He began kicking and squirming like a mad dancer._] In the midst of his struggles, his heel struck on something and started him spinning, head over heels. It was the ship. The combined gravities of the ship and his own body had brought them together again, and he was revolving about the heavier object in a close orbit, and he was turning end for end, now. Marcius could not feel the motion. It seemed as if the universe were turning about his stationary body, rising at his head and setting at his feet.