liquid leaped from the gun mounted in the nose
of the ship. At the same time, he hit the reverse pedal and backed the
ship away from the asteroid's surface. No point getting any more gunk on
the hull than necessary.

The jet of liquid struck the surface of the rotating mountain and
splashed, leaving a big splotch of silvery glitter. Even in the vacuum
of space, the silicone-based solvents of the paint vehicle took time to
boil off.

"How's that for pinpoint accuracy, Jules?"

"Veddy good, M'lud. Top hole, if I may say so, m'lud."

"You may." He jockeyed the little spacecraft around until he was
reasonably stationary with respect to the great hunk of whirling rock
and had the silver-white blotch centered on the crosshairs of the peeper
in front of him. Then he punched the button that started the timer and
waited for the silver spot to come round again.

The asteroid was roughly spherical--which was unusual, but not
remarkable. The radar gave him the distance from the surface of the
asteroid, and he measured the diameter and punched it through the
calculator. "Observe," he said in a dry, didactic voice. "The diameter
is on the order of five times ten to the fourteenth micromicrons." He
kept punching at the calculator. "If we assume a mean density of two
point six six times ten to the minus thirty-sixth metric tons per cubic
micromicron, we attain a mean mass of some one point seven four times
ten to the eleventh kilograms." More punching, while he kept his eye on
the meteorite, waiting for the spot to show up again. "And that, my dear
Jules, gives us a surface gravity of approximately two times ten to the
minus sixth standard gees."

"_Jawohl, Herr Oberstleutnant._"

"Und zo, mine dear Chules, ve haff at least der grave zuspicion dot der
zurface gravity iss less dan der zentrifugal force at der eqvator!
_Nein? Ja!_ Zo."

"_Jawohl, Herr Konzertmeister._"

Then there was a long, silent wait, while the asteroid went its
leisurely way around its own axis.

"There it comes," said Captain St. Simon. He kept his eyes on the
crosshair of the peeper, one hand over the timer button. When the silver
splotch drifted by the crosshair, he punched the stop button and looked
at the indicator.

"Sixteen minutes, forty seconds. How handy." He punched at the
calculator again. "Ah! You see, Jules! Just as we suspected! Negative
gees at the surface, on the equator, comes to ten to the minus third
standard gees--almost exactly o