But I had some breakfast while I dressed: an aspirin, a cup of coffee, and two more aspirins. And I finally reached the control turret of our space-going scow, there to find my shipmates standing around looking very what-the-hell? The skipper scowled at me as I wobbled in. "Well! So you made it? Darby, there's limits to everything, and you exceeded 'em last night--" "Look, Skipper," I said, "I can explain everything. It was this way--" "Best man!" he snorted. "If you was the best man at that weddin', I'm a grampus' tonsils. You was a disgrace to yourself, the _Pegasus_, an' mankind in general--Ah! The top of the mornin' to you, son." Enter the bridegroom, Johnny Larkin, preceded by a sheepish grin. He said, "Good morning, folks. Lovely day, isn't it?" Then, to the Old Man, curiously, "I thought they were Earthdocking us for three weeks, Skipper? Why the conference?" "Your guess is as good as mine. I got a call from G. H. Q. first thing this mornin'. All leaves to be cancelled, they said. We're to have a visitor in a few--There! That must be him now." It was. Colonel Ira Brophy, one of the igbay otshays of the IPS, the corporation that pays us our monthly insufficient. He bustled in all grins, grunts and glamor, pump-handled the skipper and beamed on us like an overgrown sunbeam. "A fine looking body of men, Captain Bowman! Yup, yup! And believe me, sir, the IPS is justly proud of this ship and its officers. Yup!" At my side, Johnny Larkin muttered something that sounded like "--donae ferentes--" But Captain Bowman fell for it, hook, line and sinker. He said, "Thank you, Colonel. And we, in turn, are proud to be privileged to do our little part for the Corporation. Any thing, any time--that's the way we feel about it--" Brophy pounced gleefully. "Wonderful, Captain! Marvelous! Yup, yup, yup! I told my associates that would be your attitude. 'The men of the _Pegasus_,' I told them, 'will be delighted to undertake this mission. Even though it may mean the curtailment of a certain amount of personal liberty and pleasure--'" Bowman's chin hit his wishbone. A pint-sized Aurora Borealis played over his gills. "M-mission?" he gargled. "Yes, Captain. It is my pleasure to inform you that to the _Pegasus_ has been allotted the honor of investigating our recent cosmic visitor, Caltech VI. Yup, yup! "You will be equipped with motion-picture, meteorological and analytical devices, and will lift gravs at 19.03 Solar Constant Time tomorrow. I need not assure you that with you go the best wishes of our great organization--" I didn't hear the rest. I was too busy stifling an impulse to wham Brophy over the conk with a blunt instrument. I glimpsed the pans of Larkin, Evans, Weir, and the rest of the boys, and knew I wasn't alone in my reaction.