"Better than that," said Crup. "I'll come along with you." He gathered his cap and a case full of papers and outside we went.

The scene which had been so lonely before was now a bit populated. Six tough, scowling Fleet marines were standing around the airbus, fingering their electric daggers. My driver was sitting a bit white-faced and alert in back.

"It's all right, sergeant," said Crup. "This is Jettero Heller." The biggest Fleet marine relaxed and smiled. He gave the single-arm salute of marines casually. "What you doing in 'drunk' company?" I held my breath.

If Heller were to tell these tough brutes he had been held prisoner and was in actual fact under guard, I am sure they would have slaughtered me and the driver.

"I'm in disguise," said Heller with a perfectly straight face.

For some reason they thought this extremely funny.

"Sergeant," said Crup, as we piled into the front seat, "call perimeter defense and tell them this airbus has permission to overfly." Heller took off, jumped the fence and, very low and slow, began to fly along. I had seen this place from high altitude and had often wondered what it was. What must be fifty square miles of black-hulled spaceships, sitting on their tails, stretched before us, the long morning shadows making it appear they were even more numerous. They were tall, they were short, they were broad, they were thin. What an assemblage!

I promptly destroyed what little tolerance I had gained from Commander Crup. "Emergency Fleet Reserve," I said. "This looks more like a boneyard!" Crup withered me. He wasn't going to answer at first and then pride got the better of him. "These ships are notscrap! They have the status of 'suspended activation.' When vessels are still serviceable but have been outmoded they are added to the Emergency Fleet Reserve!"

"But I don't see any men, no crews," I said.

"There are retired officers and superannuated spacemen aplenty that could be summoned up to man these ships," said Crup. "And believe me, in time of planetary emergency, the Fleet would be thankful to have them." Heller changed the subject. "Hey, there's the old Juba!I didn't know they had retired the five thousand spacer class, any of them!" I looked in that direction. It was a huge black monster, covered with dust. It looked like a Commercial City office building. But I didn't get any time to admire it as Heller barely flicked its antennas with our undercarriage.

Rows and rows of ships, thousands and thousands of them. We cruised along, Heller looking. I wished he'd put more of his attention on flying.

"If you could tell me what you want," said Crup, "maybe I could help. What kind of a mission is it?" Untrained as he was, I thought Heller would blurt it out. But he said, "Kind of a peculiar one. I'll just keep on looking." We had gotten to the far perimeter. "See that old baby over in the corner there, Soltan?" It was a monster's monster. It was built of cubes apparently added on at random until they were mountain high. A more dilapidated spaceship I have never seen.

"That," said Heller, "is the Upward Strike.You are looking at the last of the original intergalactic battleships. She was part of the force which attacked Voltar, an immigration ship. A hundred and twenty-five thousand years old. She must be sunk into the ground thirty feet by now."

"I thought you said all these ships were operational," I quipped.

Crup sneered at me. "She is equipped with the original time drives that made immigration possible between galaxies. Academy cadets studying engines are brought here to see her."

"It was my weak subject," I said lamely. I did recall now there had been such tours. I had always been on punishment drill.

I was jolted out of it by a yell from Heller. "There she is! There she is! There she is! Oh, you baby!"

"What?" said Crup. "Where?"

"There! There!" cried Heller, pointing and diving us down toward a landing.

"Oh, no!" said Commander Crup. "Jettero! As I love you, boy, you don't want that!" I finally credited that what they were looking at was what they were looking at.

It was a pygmy amongst these monsters. It was the ugliest, dustiest thing I ever hope to see. It was standing on its tail. It looked like a headless old woman with two arms outstretched, her black dress reaching the ground. It was only about a hundred and ten feet tall. It was fat beyond belief. All around it were graceful, swept-curve cruisers and patrol craft, any one of them preferable to this horrible looking little blob.

Heller was out and literally stroking its side in ecstasy. "Oh, you darling," he was saying. "Oh, you wonderful beauty!" Then he was eagerly beaconing to Crup to bring the keyplates to open the entry lock.

Crup was shaking his head sadly.

I arrived by Heller and looked up at this mess. "What is it?" I said.

"Oh, don't you see?" said Heller. "It's Tug One!It was the Flagship of the Tug Section!" He was vibrating like a kid that has just gotten his most heartfelt birthday present. He must have read my face correctly. "Soltan, it's all engines! It's nothing but engines! Like any tug, it has the engines of the biggest battleship in space. It's the fastest thing in this universe!" Oh, here we go, I thought. Speed. I've got your fracture now, race champion Heller. It's speed.

He still thought I didn't understand. "You know those motor locomotives on the highways, the kind that pulls half a dozen trailers after them? Well, if you detached the motor locomotive and ran it with no trailers, it would be the fastest vehicle they've got. Well, it's the same way with a tug! It's just battleship engines with a skin around them. Fast! Open the spacelock, Commander! Let him see!"

"I think there's a watchman in this sector that you know, Jet," said Crup. He took out a little board and pressed some buttons, giving our sector location. And then he got a ladder and clambered way up to open the door.

Dust! Dust and darkness. But Heller was up that tall ladder and into her in a flash, dragging me along. First he went down. I dimly perceived a large stateroom and lots of knobs and rails: they were all black-crusted, horrible looking. There were several cabins. We climbed upward on the crisscross ladders that work when the vessel is vertical or horizontal. Dust! We got to a flight deck that was crammed with controls, all coated with filth.

Heller had finally gotten out a light; there was apparently no current in the ship. He opened a door and we entered a small engine room crammed with ordinary drives. "These are her auxiliaries. You use them for atmosphere maneuvering and speeds less than light." He was checking boxes and panels rapidly. "They seem to be set up all right." We dropped down and he opened a door into a second engine compartment and as he flashed his light around, I found myself looking at the most monstrous engines I have ever seen. Actually, I had never connected with anything like them. They certainly were battleship-sized drives but other than that, I couldn't classify them.

Heller seemed happier and happier. He swarmed down a catwalk and opened a door at the back of the main engine room. I was looking at very strange, huge metal drums.

"These are her tractor beam generators!" he said. "They are some of the most powerful ever built! These are what she fastens onto things with and pulls." We went out a side door. He shined his light again into the large cabin. Aside from everything being black-stained I couldn't see much. What a dirty ship!

We went back outside. An old, old spacer was just creakily getting off a triwheeler. The watchman Crup had called. He saw Jet drop off the tall entrance ladder and peered carefully. Then he said, "Oh, my Gods!" He and Heller flew together and pounded each other. "Atty!" Jet was saying.