was conscious that he was flirting with danger. The air outside was
breathable, but would the diffuse, unorthodox gases injure his lungs? He
didn't know, couldn't be sure. But he had to admit that he felt all
right _so far_. He was seventy feet below the ship and not at all dizzy.
When he looked down he could see the purple domed summits of mountains
between gaps in the fleecy cloud blanket.

He couldn't see the Atlantic Ocean--yet. He descended the last thirty
feet with mounting confidence. At the end of the ladder he braced
himself and let go.

He fell about six feet, landing on his rump on a spongy surface that
bounced him back and forth. He was vaguely incredulous when he found
himself sitting in the sky staring through his spread legs at clouds and
mountains.

He took a deep breath. It struck him that the sensation of falling could
be present without movement downward through space. He was beginning to
experience such a sensation. His stomach twisted and his brain spun.

He was suddenly sorry he had tried this. It was so damnably unnerving he
was afraid of losing all emotional control. He stared up, his eyes
squinting against the sun. Far above him the gleaming, wedge-shaped bulk
of the Perseus loomed colossally, blocking out a fifth of the sky.

Lowering his right hand he ran his fingers over the invisible surface
beneath him. The surface felt rubbery, moist.

He got swayingly to his feet and made a perilous attempt to walk through
the sky. Beneath his feet the mysterious surface crackled, and little
sparks flew up about his legs. Abruptly he sat down again, his face
ashen.

From the emergency 'chute opening far above a massive head appeared.
"You all right, sir," Slashaway called, his voice vibrant with concern.

"Well, I--"

"You'd better come right up, sir. Captain's orders."

"All right," Lawton shouted. "Let the ladder down another ten feet."

Lawton ascended rapidly, resentment smouldering within him. What right
had the skipper to interfere? He had passed the buck, hadn't he?

* * * * *

Lawton got another bad jolt the instant he emerged through the 'chute
opening. Captain Forrester was leaning against a parachute rack gasping
for breath, his face a livid hue.

Slashaway looked equally bad. His jaw muscles were twitching and he was
tugging at the collar of his gym suit.

Forrester gasped: "Dave, I tried to move the ship. I didn't know you
were outside