The USS Taurus circled the planet, Gamma Tauri II. As Fred had expected, it seemed a negative quantity, just another of those hunks of cosmic mediocrity. By the third trip, he was completely convinced this thing had evolved nothing. He was more relieved than he cared to admit; now Charlesworth would go on. There were more promising planets in the system. He'd spent the last hour writing his report--NASA/DD Form E-72, Rev. B in triplicate--when it occurred to him that Charlesworth had made no announcement. Fred went to the captain's cabin, found Beth in discussion with him. "Glad you're here; we want to talk something over," Charlesworth said. There was a pause, and Fred, watching the other two, felt as though he were an intruder. "Sure," he said, dropping into a chair. "You're sort of strait-laced, but rules are made to be broken...." Charlesworth's voice trailed off. Beth came directly to the point: "We all want to land on New Earth." _New Earth!_ Fred was stunned but managed to keep silent. "Sure," Charlesworth beamed, a big happy bear, "that way you get a couple of days vacation at government expense, and no one's the wiser." Fred shrugged, trying to appear normal. "I don't see anything wrong with it." Hardly aware of his words, he was thinking rapidly. Why convince me? Have the four of them sensed my attitude? "There could be something so right with it!" Beth added. "If it turns out to be what it seems, we'll take the news home. You don't find many planets like this--" _You sure don't!_ The young anthropologist gripped the chair arms, again swept by nausea. He was sure he hadn't thought that or said it. Was he hearing voices? Neither Beth nor John seemed to notice. He had to get out of there, caught in a sudden claustrophobic nightmare. "I don't need any convincing," he said, hoping it sounded convincing. "I'm ready for that vacation right now. Good night." Drenched with sweat, he stumbled from the cabin. During the next few days, Fred went through a series of emotional oscillations the like of which he'd never experienced. He'd nosedive into the pit of depression; when he landed, he found himself atop the peak of Mount Euphoria. Finally, however, he came to an important conclusion. If he were ready for the squirrel factory, he'd wait until the DLE 560 returned to Earth. He certainly didn't feel violent, so he'd be crazy like a fox and keep his mouth shut. He was amazed at the adaptability of the human psyche, for there were three most-probable alternatives to face: he was mentally ill, the other four were ditto, or all of them were. Facing that, he could be quite calm. He doubted but didn't discount the possibility that they were all sane. * * * * *