Madsen was at the controls. Without a single spoken word on the subject, he was automatically the captain, and Morley, the crew. The situation crystallized twenty-four hours out of Port Ulysses. Morley was poring over the Ephemeris prior to taking his watch at the controls when he became aware that Madsen, red faced and breathing heavily, was peering over his shoulder. Morley stiffened in alarm. "Is anything--" He quailed under Madsen's glare. "Not yet, but there's liable to be if you don't smarten up." The Norwegian's blunt forefinger stabbed at the page Morley had been studying. "Phoebe, Mister, happens to be Saturn's NINTH moon. Get it? You can count, can't you?" Morley flushed, and fumbled miserably for a reasonable excuse. There was a gleam of contempt in Madsen's eyes, but he spoke again more quietly. "I'm going to eat and catch up on some sack time. We'll be right on top of Japetus in short order. It's a known fact that the moon won't move over if you fly at it, so you better wake me up to handle the compensating!" He disappeared into the tiny galley, but his words were still audible. "It's an awful long walk back, chum, if anybody pulls a bull." Morley swung himself into the pilot's seat, too numb with humiliation to answer. Almost an hour passed before he started the regulation checkup required by the Space Code of any ship passing within one hundred thousand miles of a planet or major satellite. Every guardian needle stood in its normal place with one exception. The craft had been running on the port fuel tanks, depleting them to the point where it seemed wise to trim ship. Morley opened the valve, touched the fuel pump switch and waited, nothing happened. He watched the needles incredulously. The pump--? He jabbed the switch, once, twice. Nothing. He leaned forward and rapped the starboard gauge with his knuckles, sharply. The needle swung from Full to Empty. Morley felt faint as realization hit him. The starboard gauge had stuck at Full, and had been unreported. The tank had not been serviced in port, owing to the faulty reading and a mechanic's carelessness. They had about two hours fuel. Even to Morley, it was obvious that there was one thing only to do--land on Japetus, looming up larger in the view-plate with each passing moment. He checked the distance rapidly, punched the calculator, and put the ship in the designated orbit. He wanted to handle the landing himself, but the thought of the final few ticklish moments chilled him. So did the thought of waking Madsen, and asking him to take over.