e ship and they've got to be kept
contented. We've got ourselves pleasant jobs, with monsters for
playmates, and we can't get fired. It'll be the rottenest time of our
lives, and the _rest_ of our lives, as far as I can see."

Gene sank down, put the compress back on his bump. "I don't get it."

"You will. I'm not absolutely sure I'm right, but I know a little more
about it than you."

"What's your name?"

"They call me Queenie Brant. A name that fits this business. My real
name is Ann O'Donnell."

"Queenie's a horse's name--I'll call you Ann. Me, I'm Gene O'Neil."

"That makes us both Irish," she said. He lifted the compress and saw the
first really natural smile on her face. It was a sweet smile,
introspective, dewy, young.

"You were only a dancer." He said it flatly.

For a long instant she looked at him, "Thanks. You got inside the gate
on that one."

"It's in your eyes. I'm glad to know you, Ann. And I'd like to know you
better."

"You will. There'll be plenty of time; we're bound for Io."

"Where's Io?"

"One of Jupiter's moons, you Irish ignoramus. It has quite a colony
around the mines. Also it has a strange race of people. But Ann
O'Donnell is going to live there if she can get off this ship. I don't
want fingernails growing on _my_ chin."

O'Neil sat up. "I get it now! It's something about the atomic drive that
changes the crew!"

"What else?"

Gene looked at Ann, let his eyes rove over her figure.

"Take a good look," she said bitterly. "Maybe it won't stay like this
very long!"

"We've _got_ to get off this ship!" said Gene hoarsely.

* * * * *

The door of the stateroom opened. A sharp-nosed face peered in, followed
by a misshapen body of a man in a dirty blue uniform. Hair grew thick
all around his neck and clear up to his ears. It also covered the skin
from chin to shirt opening. The hair bristled, coarse as an animal's.
His voice was thick, his words hissing as though his tongue was too
heavy to move properly.

"Captain wants you, O'Neil."

Gene got up, took a step. He went clear across the room, banged against
the wall. The little man laughed.

"We're in space," Ann said. "We have a simulated gravity about a quarter
normal. Here, let me put on your metal-soled slippers. They're
magnetized to hold you to the floor." She bent and slipped the things on
his feet, while Gene held his throbbing head.

The little man opened the door and went out.