THE SWAMP WAS UPSIDE DOWN BY MURRAY LEINSTER Illustrated by Freas [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Astounding Science Fiction September 1956. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] I Hardwick knew the Survey ship had turned end-for-end, because though there was artificial gravity, it does not affect the semicircular canals of the human ear. He knew he was turning head-over-heels, even though his feet stayed firmly on the floor. It was not a normal sensation, and he felt that queasy, instinctive tightening of the muscles with which one reacts to the abnormal, whether in things seen or felt. But the reason for turning the ship end-for-end was obvious. It had arrived very near its destination, and was killing its Lawlor-drive momentum. Just as Hardwick was assured that the turning motion was finished, young Barnes--the ship's lowest-ranking commissioned officer--came into the wardroom and beamed at him kindly. "The ship's not landing, sir," he said gently, like one explaining something to somebody under ten years old. "Our orders are changed. You're to go to ground by boat. This way, sir." Hardwick shrugged. He was a Senior Officer of the Colonial Survey, and this was a Survey ship, and it had been sent especially to get him from his last and still unfinished job. It was a top-urgency matter. This ship had had no other business for some months except to go after and bring him to Sector Headquarters, down on Canna III which must be somewhere near. But this young officer was patronizing him! Hardwick rather regretfully recognized that he didn't know how to be impressive. He was not a good salesman of his own importance. He didn't even get the urgent respect due his rank--and when one thought about it, it was amazing that he'd ever reached a high level in the Survey. Now the young officer waited, brisk and kindly and blandly alert in manner. Hardwick reflected wryly that he could pin young Barnes' ears back easily enough. But he remembered when he'd been a junior Survey ship's officer. Then he'd felt a serene condescension toward all people of whatever rank who did not spend their lives in the cramped, skimped quarters of a Survey patrol-ship. If this young Lieutenant Barnes were fortunate, he'd always feel that way. Hardwick could not begrudge him the cockiness which made the tedium and hardships of the Service seem to him a privilege. So he quite obediently followed Barnes through the wardroom door. He ducked his head under a ventilation slot and sidled past a standpipe with bristling air-valve handles. It almost closed the way. There was the smell of oil and paint and ozone which all proper Survey ships maintain in their working sections. "Here, sir," said Barnes paternally. "This way."