"There's always the airlock," I suggested. "Nobody would ever blame you."
"This ain't no time to be funny, Sparks!" complained the skipper. "This is a serious problem. We've got a valuable cargo of mekel-root and clab-beans to take into New York. But if that guy messes up our flight any more—"
He shook his head dolefully. I scratched mine. Then I got a brilliant idea.
"Cargo!" I said. "There's your answer, Captain!"
"I'm listenin'," said Hanson.
"Put Biggs in charge of the cargo. That way he'll be down in the hold throughout the trip. He won't be up in the control turret to bother you. And there's nothing he can do down there that'll hurt anybody."
"But that's the supercargo's job," frowned the skipper. "Biggs knows that."
"Sure. But Harkness will play along with you. Tell him to let on he's sick. Give him a vacation for this trip. He deserves it, anyway. Then it's logical enough to put Biggs on special duty below."
The skipper grinned.
"Sparks, I take it back what I said about radiomen. I think you got somethin' there!"