"No, prob--" Neilson's answer mumbled itself away and he found himself floating across the flat face of the asteroid, waiting for the next huge flake to descend. ... And then he was really awake. He discovered that he was leaning against the back of a heavily-padded chair, alone in a guest bedroom. Approaching footsteps told him the pair was returning and he hastily shut his eyes. This had to be carefully managed. "Ought to be waking up about now," said Neilson. Cramer started stretching, then rubbed his lids and blinked at the light. "Give me a fleck," he pleaded. "Just a little bit." The two of them nodded to one another and Hartley leaned forward. "Takes a little while to get it out of the freezer, Will." "I want it now," he said petulantly. Hartley gave his shoulder a comradely squeeze. "One of the gang now, eh? Come along and you'll get it. You have to report to HQ." "I have five days Probationary." He got up and followed them a little unsteadily to the cryogenic freezer in another room. "Five days are up," Hartley explained. "You've been doing a lot of sleeping, even were sleepy when you got up to eat." "Don't understand." "I'll tell you after you get our sniff." "Yes, that's what I want now." * * * * * One tiny fleck came out on a holder the size of a fingernail paring. It was frightening how quickly they had developed techniques for handling the stuff. "Take it fast!" Neilson shouted. "That germ colony's worth eighty dollars and it's breaking down fast. You won't get another." Cramer leaned forward to quickly breath it in. By the time he exhaled it was already working its magic. He straightened up and smiled with hangdog gratitude. "Oh, that's good!" "Had to get you used to it," Hartley said. "Only reason why we kept you sleepy--you'll thank us some day." "Some day? I thank you _now_!" Neilson gave him a friendly handshake but his eyes were coolly observant. "Okay," he nodded for Hartley's benefit. Hartley glanced at his watch. "The stuff's all gone by now. They can't find a thing even if they do give you a checkup." "But the silicon--" "Not a trace," Neilson said. "This thing even breaks up on the atomic level, takes a little longer than the germ death but inside an hour no silicon." "But the fission breakdown--" "Don't ask me," Neilson shrugged, "it doesn't work that way. Must have something to do with the beautiful energy charge you get from germ-joy." "Feeling clear-headed?" Hartley asked. "Sure, I'll be right back for some more after I report." He went out, grinning inwardly. They were right about one thing--it wasn't physiologically habit-forming. And he just did not have the kind of psychological defect for it to be habit-forming any other way. When he reached Space Pioneer HQ he handed in his card at the Probationary desk. The Major in charge looked him up and down in stony silence, then suddenly barked, "Anything to say, Mister?"