The Ordeal of Lancelot Biggs By NELSON S. BOND In spite of peace pacts, Earth ships were being attacked on Themis. Could Biggs answer that one? [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Amazing Stories May 1943. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] Well, like it says in the old adage, "Things equal to the same thing gather no moss." When the Corporation that under-pays us snatched the _Saturn_ off the freight shuttle and turned it into a trouble-shooter for special assignments, we thought we were getting a break. Huh! We were. "Break" is just another word for "bust." The result of our alleged "promotion" was that for a fractional increase in salary we worked twice as hard at jobs ten times nastier than any we had ever tackled before. Like for instance the night Cap Hanson and I--I'm Bert Donovan, bug-pounder of the _Saturn_--were at the home of Lt. and Mrs. Lancelot Biggs. Biggs is, of course, the First Mate of our void-mangling jalopy. A year ago he married the skipper's daughter, Diane. We were sitting around, chatting about this and that and the other inconsequential truffle, trying to look calmer than we actually felt, when the telephone jangled. "Bet it's a wrong number!" I said--and picked it up. I was right. It _was_ a Wrong Number named Cheeverly, Assignment Clerk at Long Island Spaceport. He said, "_Salujo_, Sparks. Is Captain Hanson there?" "Present," I said, "but not accountable for. Listen, Dracula, how about calling back tomorrow or next month?" He snapped, "This is official business, Donovan! Put him on before I report you!" So I handed the receiver to the Old Man, and for the next few minutes Diane and Lanse and I eavesdropped upon one of those unintelligible half conversations between Hanson and the drip at the other end of the wire. "Yeah?" said the Old Man. "Yeah, this is Hanson.... Eh? Eh, what's that?... But Cheeverly, I.... What?... But I'm on furlough, man! The staff and crew of the _Saturn_ were granted a three week vaca.... Oh! Oh, I see! Emergency, eh? Well, if we _have_ to. But can't you find some other ship to.... Mmm-hmmm! I understand. Yes. Yes. Very well. I'll get in touch with my men immediately...." He hung up and turned to us gravely. I think we all knew what he was going to say before he said it. Diane cried, "Oh, _no_, Daddy! No! Not _now_!" And Biggs asked, "What is it, sir? I hope they don't want us to--?" Hanson fumed, "They do, dingbust 'em to Hades! It's an emergency mission. We're to lift gravs immediately!" "Lift gravs!" exclaimed Biggs bleakly. His lump of a larynx leaped like a lemon in his scrawny neck. "But, Dad! I can't go _now_!"