ing from the control panel, he ran back toward
the gun turret and slammed shut the plexilite screen. Its outer wall
opened and the fuel-tank went tumbling outward and down. He returned to
his control-panel seat and looked at the viewscreen. He smiled.

The fuel-tank was lying near the Dome--right in the middle of the nest
of iceworms. The fuel was leaking from the puncture.

The iceworms writhed in from all sides.

"Now!" Preston said grimly.

The ship roared down, jets blasting. The fire licked out, heated the
ground, melted snow--ignited the fuel-tank! A gigantic flame blazed up,
reflected harshly off the snows of Ganymede.

And the mindless iceworms came, marching toward the fire, being
consumed, as still others devoured the bodies of the dead and dying.

Preston looked away and concentrated on the business of finding a place
to land the ship.

* * * * *

The holocaust still raged as he leaped down from the catwalk of the
ship, clutching one of the heavy mail sacks, and struggled through the
melting snows to the airlock.

He grinned. The airlock was open.

Arms grabbed him, pulled him through. Someone opened his helmet.

"Great job, Postman!"

"There are two more mail sacks," Preston said. "Get men out after them."

The man in charge gestured to two young colonists, who donned
spacesuits and dashed through the airlock. Preston watched as they raced
to the ship, climbed in, and returned a few moments later with the mail
sacks.

"You've got it all," Preston said. "I'm checking out. I'll get word to
the Patrol to get here and clean up that mess for you."

"How can we thank you?" the official-looking man asked.

"No need to," Preston said casually. "I had to get that mail down here
some way, didn't I?"

He turned away, smiling to himself. Maybe the Chief _had_ known what he
was doing when he took an experienced Patrol man and dumped him into
Postal. Delivering the mail to Ganymede had been more hazardous than
fighting off half a dozen space pirates. _I guess I was wrong_, Preston
thought. _This is no snap job for old men._

Preoccupied, he started out through the airlock. The man in charge
caught his arm. "Say, we don't even know your name! Here you are a hero,
and--"

"Hero?" Preston shrugged. "All I did was deliver the mail. It's all in a
day's work, you know. The mail's got to get through!"

THE END

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced fr