The strangest look came over Stipe's face. Then he turned his palm to see the denomination. He looked up and if I have ever seen a person beam, he beamed!

"Say, you'll want your water and sewage and power hoses, won't you. A cleaning team, you say. Well, fellow, we never ain't had one before but we're going to have one now!" And he rushed off bawling for foremen and work gangs.

My driver staggered in, carrying some bundles and cans. "Here they are Officer Heller. Fleet cleaning supplies. I'll go get the rags!" He dumped his load and ran back to the airbus.

Old Atty had been standing around, watching the sudden scurry, so unlike the Apparatus. He went over to Heller and Heller thanked him and they embraced.

The old spacer came over to me. "I get the idea you're going off some place with Jet. There's something you ought to know. Jet's a dear boy. Everybody loves him. But he's really quite mad, you know. Speed. It's like food and drink to him. I think of him every now and then – you've not much to do as a watchman – and while there's a lot of smiles in remembering things he has done, there's always a bit of a worry, too. I'm getting old. I got a feeling I'll never see Jet alive again. Tug Oneis a killer." He fixed me with his swimming old eyes and punctuated every word with a piercing flash. "You hold him down. You make him keep that throttle just a little bit shut. You make sure Tug Onedon't kill him. Because, Officer Gris – yes, I saw your name on those orders and saw also you're a 'drunk' – if anything happens to Jettero Heller that can be laid to your account, there's a lot of us will find and kill you, Officer Gris." It was so illogical! It was so unjust! It was Iwho had tried to prevent Heller from getting that ship! The old spacer might be in his dotage and his wits might be adrift but there was no mistaking the menace in his voice. In some intuitive way, did he sense I was Heller's enemy?

Hastily, I got Atty into an airbus and told a driver to return him to the Emergency Fleet Reserve. I certainly hoped he would never find out or guess what was intended to happen to Heller. I watched them leave.

I was sick all over again.

I should have been more suspicious. My only excuse is that I was a bit confused and dazed with the events of the first half of the morning. I remember looking at my watch and being amazed that it was still so early.

But Heller wasn't dazed. He was moving with fast, determined movements, putting speed and control into this scene.

I saw him go over to the hangar security guard captain. There was a money handshake and a sudden look of awe from the captain. "Yes, sir!"the security chief said, pushing golden paper into his tunic, "Post guards and make absolutely certain nothing is stolen from that ship. Good as done, sir!" And he rushed off to post his guards.

A motley mob of mechanics, cargo handlers and odds and ends of personnel had been gathered up by the bustling hangar chief to act as cleaning crews. My driver was standing beside a stack of cans and boxes and was handing out rags and cleaning materials to the workmen who then began crowding into the ship.

Heller and a mechanic were rigging vacuum hoses and passing them into the open airlocks and ports of Tug One.Another crew was fastening water, sewage and power lines for groundside utilities.

There were so many bodies rushing about doing so many things, it made me quite dizzy.

Then, to cap it, a big lorry suddenly roared into the hangar. My driver rushed over to its cab and some workmen spilled out and began to unload it. A commercial lorry? Big signs on it: Drink Tup for a Terrific Treat!

Tup? It was the mild, brewed concoction workers are supposed to rave about.

The truck workers found a long sheet of hull shielding and put it on a couple of supports, making a kind of bar. Then they unloaded some cases of canisters and stacked them along the shielding. This tup company, I'd seen in ads, provided "everything you need for a picnic party." And sure enough, they unloaded some expendable portable stands with banners on them in garish colors and strewed them about the bar and spotted them on the floor. Then they all jumped back on the lorry and it roared away.

Heller let loose a piercing whistle, the way they do on battleships. All work ceased abruptly within and outside the ship. In that distance-defying Fleet officer voice he said, "Attention all. If this ship passes a Fleet-type inspection, totally clean, by four o'clock this afternoon, you will all have a tup party!" Heads, incredulous, poked out of openings in the ship. People turned and stared. And there was the makeshift bar and there flowed the bright banners and there in cases was the tup!

A concerted yell of enthusiasm went up from all over the place. And if there had been action before, there was a blur now! Nothing like this had ever happened before in thishangar.

The voice of the hangar chief rumbled behind me and I turned, half-expecting to be attacked. But he wasn't looking at me. He was looking with awe at the busy Heller. "Who is that guy? He's a Royal officer, I can tell that. But I got the feeling I've seen his face before." Without thinking – I wasn't being very bright that day – I said, "Jettero Heller."

"No!" said the battered old hangar chief. "Jettero Heller the famous race driver! Oh, wait until I tell my wife and kids I've actually met theJettero Heller." Oh, my Gods! If this got to the Grand Council we hadn't left . . . I had an impulse to seize him by the tunic and drag him close and snarl. But he was too tough. Instead, I said, "He is on a mission that is totally secret. No word that he is here is to be spread around!" I had a vision of Crown inspectors swarming in to find out why we were still here and not on Earth! "You'll forget his name! That's an order!" I might as well not have opened my mouth for all the attention he gave me. He was still looking at Heller. "My, but he's a grand fellow! So efficient, so friendly." And then and only then did his eyes shift to me. He looked me up and down. "Wish we had some in the Apparatus like that!" And walked off.

It didn't help my morale. But looking at Tug Onefurther depressed it. I slumped down on an old fuel rod case and looked at her. Lying on her belly as she was now, she was about forty feet high and about sixty feet wide, all out of proportion for her hundred and ten feet of length. And the massive arms that stuck out on either side of her bow looked silly.

The trundle dolly operator was preparing to move the machine: he was nearby, lifting the chock levers. I said to him, "What are those arms sticking out from her bow?" He looked at her. "Those are to butt with. That's a space tug. They butt into the sides of battleships and things and if they didn't have those wide arms, they'd buckle the hull plates of what they were trying to move. Her stern is big enough to use, too. They butt and bump and push things around. I never seen that exact type before, she looks more powerful than the usual run; and that's saying a lot, fellow. Even the auxiliary drives on those tugs are the same as they put in battleships today. Gods know what her main power is. And she'd have traction beam towing, too. You have to be careful of traction beam towing: one careless yank and it'd pull a battleship in half. A tug is all engines. I heard a few years ago one blew up: lost everybody aboard. Awful thing: you wouldn't catch me serving on no tug. What are we doing with that thing in here anyway?" I wished I knew! But one thing I did know: it was the ugliest spacevessel I had ever laid eyes on.

Heller seemed to have everything organized and going now. I saw him entering the hangar administration offices over on the other side. Even at that distance I could see he had some notebook out, consulting it as he walked. In a surge of fear, I realized he was heading for the communication control cubicle: he was about to personally place outside calls! With his in security, he could blow us apart! I raced after him.