But old P. B. who, being an Earth-lubber, didn't know what grounding means to a true spaceman, just smiled.
"That's right, Captain. Every member of the command and crew is being examined. You see, the company is removing the Saturn from the freighter service—"
Removing! That was Jolt No. 2! Words got as far as my tonsils—and clogged there. But Biggs' uncle continued blandly:
"—and because of its magnificent service record on behalf of the Corporation, your ship is being assigned to new duties. Henceforth, the Saturn will lift gravs only on special tasks, assignments of vital importance which have proven too difficult for ordinary vessels of the fleet."
Well! That was something like! At last our efforts—or should I say the whackypot genius of Lancelot Biggs?—had earned us recognition. My weskit buttons tugged at their moorings; and glancing at my comrades, I saw they shared my pride. Cap Hanson's huge grin threatened to slice off the top of his head, while Lancelot Biggs' sensitive Adam's-apple was galloping up and down in his throat like a runaway yo-yo.
"Well, now!" said Hanson, gratified. "That bein' the case, I can quite understand why physical exams are necessary, sir. But do you feel that everyone—?"
"Everyone," nodded the Vice-president, "from highest to lowest. Everyone aboard this ship. Yes, Captain Hanson. Those orders have been issued, and cannot be altered."
Biggs gurgled happily, "Tell them what our first assignment is, Uncle Prenny."
"Ah, yes. Of course, Lancelot. Captain Hanson, you are doubtless cognizant of the—er—delicate situation upon the planetoid Iris?"