"There's some sort of merry hell below," said Hardwick wryly. "It looks bad that they won't let a ship come down by grid. It looks worse that they won't let this one land on its rockets." He paused. "I doubt they'll risk lifting us off again." Young Barnes finished his computations. He looked satisfied. He glanced at the now-gigantic planet below. He deftly adjusted the course of the tiny boat. Then he jerked his head around. "Excuse me, sir. Did you say we mightn't be able to lift off again?" "I could almost predict that we won't," said Hardwick. "Would you ... could you say why, sir?" "They don't want landings. The trouble is here. If they don't want landings, they won't want launchings. Werner and I were sent for, so presumably we're needed. But apparently there's uneasiness about even our landing. Surely they won't send us off again. I suspect--" The loud-speaker said tinnily: "_Calling boat from landing-grid! Calling boat from landing-grid!_" "Come in," said Barnes. But he looked uneasily at Hardwick. "_Correct your course!_" commanded the voice sharply. "_You are not to land on rockets under any circumstances! This is an order from the Sector Chief himself! Stand off! We will be ready to lock on and land you gently in about fifteen minutes. But meanwhile stand off!_" "Yes, sir," said young Barnes. Hardwick reached over and took the microphone. "Hardwick speaking," he said. "I'd like information. What's the trouble down there that we can't use our rockets?" "_Rockets are noisy, sir. Even boat-rockets. We have orders to prevent all physical vibration possible, sir. But I am ordered not to give details on a transmitter, sir._" "I'll sign off," said Hardwick, dryly. He pushed the microphone away. He deplored his own lack of aggressiveness. Werner, now, would have pulled his rank and insisted on being informed. But Hardwick couldn't help believing that there was a reason for orders that over-ruled his own. The young officer swung the rocket end-for-end. The sensation of pressure against the back of Hardwick's seat increased. Minutes later the speaker said: "_Grid to boat. Prepare for lock-on._" "Ready, sir," said Barnes. The small boat shuddered and leaped crazily. It spun. It oscillated violently through seconds-long arcs in emptiness. Very, very gradually, the oscillations died. There was a momentary sensation of the faint tugging of planetary weight, which is somehow subtly different from the feel of artificial gravity. Then the cosmos turned upside down as the boat was drawn very swiftly toward the watery planet below it. Some minutes later, young Barnes spoke apologetically: "Beg pardon, sir," he said diffidently. "I must be stupid, sir, but I can't imagine any reason why vibrations or noise should make any difference on a planet. How could it do harm?" "This is an ocean-planet," said Hardwick. "It might make people drown."