Her laugh was full of a knowledge denied him. "That's what I used to think!" She began to unstrap him from the hammock. Then she pushed back his hair, prodded at the purple knob on his head with careful fingertips. "How come you're on this ship?" asked Gene, wincing but letting her fingers explore. "Shanghaied, same as you. I'm from the Blue Moon. I stepped out between acts for a breath of fresh air, and wham, a sack over the head and here I am. They thought you might have a cracked skull. One of the monsters told me to check you. No doctor on the ship." Gene groaned. "Then I didn't dream it--there is a guy on this ship with fingernails instead of a beard on his chin!" She nodded. "You haven't seen anything yet!" "Why are we here?" "You've been shanghaied to work the ship, I'm here for a different purpose--these men can't get off the ship and they've got to be kept contented. We've got ourselves pleasant jobs, with monsters for playmates, and we can't get fired. It'll be the rottenest time of our lives, and the _rest_ of our lives, as far as I can see." Gene sank down, put the compress back on his bump. "I don't get it." "You will. I'm not absolutely sure I'm right, but I know a little more about it than you." "What's your name?" "They call me Queenie Brant. A name that fits this business. My real name is Ann O'Donnell." "Queenie's a horse's name--I'll call you Ann. Me, I'm Gene O'Neil." "That makes us both Irish," she said. He lifted the compress and saw the first really natural smile on her face. It was a sweet smile, introspective, dewy, young. "You were only a dancer." He said it flatly. For a long instant she looked at him, "Thanks. You got inside the gate on that one." "It's in your eyes. I'm glad to know you, Ann. And I'd like to know you better." "You will. There'll be plenty of time; we're bound for Io." "Where's Io?" "One of Jupiter's moons, you Irish ignoramus. It has quite a colony around the mines. Also it has a strange race of people. But Ann O'Donnell is going to live there if she can get off this ship. I don't want fingernails growing on _my_ chin." O'Neil sat up. "I get it now! It's something about the atomic drive that changes the crew!" "What else?" Gene looked at Ann, let his eyes rove over her figure. "Take a good look," she said bitterly. "Maybe it won't stay like this very long!" "We've _got_ to get off this ship!" said Gene hoarsely. * * * * * The door of the stateroom opened. A sharp-nosed face peered in, followed by a misshapen body of a man in a dirty blue uniform. Hair grew thick all around his neck and clear up to his ears. It also covered the skin from chin to shirt opening. The hair bristled, coarse as an animal's. His voice was thick, his words hissing as though his tongue was too heavy to move properly. "Captain wants you, O'Neil." Gene got up, took a step. He went clear across the room, banged against the wall. The little man laughed.