Then Whitemarsh dropped his second bombshell. The junior chemists were ordered to rate the Laboratorians for proficiency! Fresh from six months' study under such taskmasters as Whitemarsh and Kercheval, the chastened scientists were now able to interpret the antics of their tormentors of yesterday. An old tradition had fallen and the howls extended back to the Front Office on Earth. For a change, Miss Chester did not object. She was evidently past all comment. She merely wrote out a list of the faults and virtues of all her assistants, rated them all Excellent and went back to her research. But Rocco was tried and found incapable of running titrations. Harry Crowe was found to be weighing incorrectly, Zachary had been fixing his calculations for the last ten years and even faithful Bruno had been found to be adding 15 to all of his Iodine numbers in order to pass the specs easier. It suddenly occurred to every one that all the laboratory's reports were based on incorrect data. All work stopped for a week until the scientists found what their assistants had been trying to do all along. And the results were a bit terrifying. When Kercheval found that an incorrectly calibrated reflectometer had negated five years of his pet project, he tore up his notebooks, flung them on the floor and stalked into Whitemarsh's office. "Frank, I'm taking my back vacations and going to Venus to forget it all for about six months. And mind you, when I get back I don't want to see my present assistants. I'm going to start from scratch." He left, banging the door. Next was Sturtevant. "Frank, we've got to get Interstellar Review to hold my last paper. I want to recheck the melting points of some of those diazo compounds." Then came the young physicist, Dr. Slezak, who was rumored to be Miss Chester's present skiing companion. "Dr. Whitemarsh," he stammered, "I'm not sure about the data on my last report." "Didn't you take it all yourself?" "Yes, but I used some of Kercheval's data for my fundamental calculations and, if that's wrong, all my conclusions may not be valid." "Stop worrying," Whitemarsh told him. "When Kercheval recalculates his values, you can revise your own report. As long as your own work is right, you have nothing to worry about." The young man left, nervously wringing his hands. Whitemarsh couldn't see what Sally saw in him. He figured she ought to be along by now. She was. "I told you so," Sally said theatrically. "You've got the whole lab mistrusting each other. All the chemists are quarreling like mad and the Laboratorians all look like whipped dogs. You've pulled the chair right out from under everything and you sit here gloating." "Relax, Sally," he told her. "They're just growing pains. Take it easy and ride out the storm.... Now, how about tearing over to Lunar 7 to see the crucial Spaceball series between the Space Rangers and the Callisto Satellites?"