Mrs. Entwhistle turned white under the sunburn which she evidently had received on one of the Martian desert resorts. It was not uncommon: many of the tourists seemed afraid at first--after all, you took a flimsy little two-seater and jockeyed it among the tiny motes of Saturn's rings. The word tiny, of course, could be confusing. Some of those motes could make a two-man cruiser look like a small speck of dust. If you didn't know how safe all that reflected sunlight was you'd be afraid. But the light was sufficient, and an alert pilot simply had to mind his business and you had nothing to worry about. * * * * * Socrates got into his vac suit rapidly and adjusted the glassite helmet over his head. He had the attendants bring an oversized suit for Mrs. Entwhistle, although he did not tell her that was the case at all. The vac suits represented the final precautionary measure. Any good pilot could avoid the larger chunks with ease, but once in a long long while a smaller particle might somehow elude the force-field which was there to protect against it, and the vac suit assured all tourists of a personal supply of air. "All set, Mrs. Entwhistle?" "Yes. Yes--only, you're sure it's safe?" "I'd take my own wife--" Mr. Entwhistle smiled. "You married? I didn't know you were married, Mr. Smith." "He's not. Can't you see that he's not married, Arnold?" "I'm not," Socrates admitted. "But I'd cheerfully take my own mother. You'll be safe, Mrs. Entwhistle." Mrs. Entwhistle seemed a little taken aback by this remark, but her husband said, "Be careful, Gertrude," and then they closed the faceplate on her glassite helmet. Socrates switched on his radio. "Can you hear me, Mrs. Entwhistle?" "Yes. Yes, I can. Better be careful, that's all I can say." "Relax. We'll start now." Mrs. Entwhistle was bulky in her vac suit, and two attendants had to help her through the narrow lock of the ship. After that Socrates saw to it that she was strapped securely into her seat, and her face looked peculiarly green under the lights of the instrument panel. Socrates jumped outside to tell something to one of the attendants and he saw Farquhart there waiting for him. "Hello, Smith. Nice day." "Yeah. How's it coming? Your investigation, I mean." "Surprisingly, fine. I'd say that if everything checks through with a clean bill of health today I'll be leaving on tomorrow morning's liner. If." Perhaps Farquhart had not meant the if to sound so ominous, but it came out that way because Socrates immediately associated it with what Norma had said the night before. He smiled a bit weakly now and readjusted his helmet. Then he mumbled, "I'll see you on Ganymede in a few years," and he went back in through the lock. * * * * * They cruised at fifteen miles a second, and within an hour they were passing under the outer ring. Automatically he lowered their speed.