Into the trans he said, "Put a lamp in the window, Mother Dear. I'm going to look the sitchy-ation over. I'll hold on the line of the ship to the horizon, then bear right on the circle till I get back. Have supper ready--and please, no horse-radish in the broccoli." Doc's voice came through with a trace of worry in it. "We shouldn't separate until we know more about this." "To quote an outstanding authority," said Jon, "one Randall E. 'Doc' Martin, 'what's the difference? Fast or slow--take your choice'. End of quote." "All right," agreed Doc tiredly. "But Jon, don't do, uh, anything rash." "G'bye, Clabberhead," retorted Jon fondly. "Over and out." Black depression settled on Jon as he trudged toward the horizon. Unwilling impressions returned to his brain. He remembered the crew of the XP-14. Their converter had been cracked in a jet blowout. The commander was in the Rest Home on Venus. His head and shoulders looked like a mushroom. Colloids. Lucky, everybody said, just a light burn. His brain was still good. So he carried his obscenity of a head around and found his way with a radar rod. Some of the others weren't so lucky; the flesh melted off their bones. Some of them had glowed before they died. _I'll stick with it until the time limit's up_, he thought, _then I'll blast my suit or cut the S-G circuit. Quick and easy._ He approached the sphere--hemisphere now--and wondered casually why it assumed that shape. Feeding, probably. But what would a metal ball eat? On the other hand, how did it receive his mental commands? _Drop it, Jonny, you're just going in circles._ The sphere popped back into shape at his approach and circled coquettishly about him. It stopped before him and seemed to be waiting. Jon grinned. "Booger, you ear-banger, you're bucking for stripes. All right.... To the rear, MARCH!" Booger spun on his axis and trundled briskly away. "Halt! By the right oblique, MARCH! RIGHT!... WHEEL! Halt! At Ease!" Booger came patiently to rest. * * * * * The fancy came over Jon that it would indeed be a sight to organize a drill team of these spheres. "Booger," he thought suddenly, "where are your friends? You can't be the only one on this Godforsaken world. Go get 'em, Booger." Booger sat for a bit and then rolled playfully to and fro. Jon phrased his thoughts carefully. He visualized a double row of Boogers, five to the row, before him. _Go get the rest of them, Booger_, he thought. Booger quivered, and then like snapping off a light tube, he was gone. Within ten seconds, he popped back. Beside him a twin materialized, then two more. Finally all ten of them were there, in two rows of five.