On the floor beneath the peg on which he had hung his space suit, he noticed a puddle of ooze--the colorless gelatine he had seen on his visor. Was his imagination working overtime, or was there more of it now than when he had gone in to talk to his father? It couldn't be, and yet he had thought there were only a few blotches of it on his suit. The world of Caliban was always in half-darkness. Dirk found this somehow comforting as he pushed through the murk to the command center. He actually felt less alien here than on sunlit Terra. His father had already taken action, he learned from the officer in charge. A small SD-4 reconnaissance ship had been placed at his disposal. It was fueled and he could blast off whenever he chose. The officer avoided his eyes, Dirk noted, and there was between the two of them, an elaborate pretense that nothing had happened. With his orders, Dirk returned to the ICARUS for his gear. He hoped that the others would not have returned, but he was disappointed. Tabor was in the cruiser when he stepped aboard. The biophysicist was crouched over his microscope, concentrating intently on some specimen he had found. He was scarcely aware that Dirk had come in. There weren't many things to collect. An officer in the Space Armada learned to travel light. He didn't hurry. He was reluctant to leave the ICARUS, to isolate himself in the cramped quarters of the SD-4, to leave behind forever the life which he had tried to take as his own. Tabor huddled over his microscope, punctuating the silence with little exclamations of surprise. The specimen on the slide was apparently proving of interest. Another happy man, thought Dirk. He hesitated in the doorway and looked back. "Good-bye, Tabor." The man at the microscope only half-turned. "This is the most amazing cell I've ever examined. Incredible. Apparently it's the effect of oxygen on the organism. What a sensational announcement this will be on Terra. Sensational." Dirk nodded at Tabor's back. Why should he have thought the scientist would be interested in his going? He was just another space officer washing out. Wearily, he donned his space suit once more. The gelatine was everywhere. An expanding pool of it stood in the compression chamber. Idly, he wondered if it could be the specimen causing Tabor's excitement. Parties were already out combing Caliban. This would be another triumph for Commandant Jemson; another glorious achievement for the Grand Old Man of Space. The reports need carry no mention of the disgrace and shame of a lieutenant in the commandant's armada--an ex-lieutenant whose name also happened to be Jemson. * * * * * Dirk stopped beside the trim little SD-4. What if he went back to his father--if he begged for another chance--a chance to prove that he WAS a Jemson worthy of the name. The answer was there in the crawling dark of Caliban. There was no second chance. His father had made a decision.