oor." Bullard's long face radiated despair. "No
one ever questioned why the door mechanism wasn't included in the
original plans. We simply designed another type--a different type--of
door."

"Well, you certainly can find out how this particular door works, can't
you?"

"I hope so," Bullard said, wringing his hands. "But we have a couple of
other problems. Number one, Captain Fromer has an extremely important
passenger aboard. None other than His Exalted Excellency, R'thagna Bar.
He is--or was--on his way home after concluding a treaty of friendship
with the President of the Federation."

Hansen managed a whistle.

"Furthermore," Bullard continued, "His Excellency _has to be home soon_ to
get there in time for the mating season. This occurs once in a lifetime,
I'm told, and this is his only chance to continue the ancestral rule--"

"Wait a minute," Hansen said. "Are you trying to say that you can't solve a
simple problem like getting him home and getting him out of the ship? You
can always cut it in two, can't you?"

"These ships were made to last forever," Bullard explained. "The hull is,
of course, pseudo-met, but, not the kind of pseudo-met used for other
applications. In short, about the only way you'll get in that ship is to
vaporize it."

"But can't you simply disassemble the door mechanism? My God, how
complicated can it be?"

"We're going to try to do just that," Bullard said without a trace of
confidence. "As far as the complication goes, let me say just this: it's
full of moving parts."

"What are you getting at?" Hansen asked.

"Just this. These ships are perfect mechanisms. There is hardly anything in
them that could be called a moving part. Now a door has to open and close.
Sure, we devised a simple, safe way to do it a few hundred years after the
original fleet was built. The men who designed the original door mechanism
felt, perhaps, that it was incongruous to include it in the first place.
Maybe that is why they threw away the plans. God knows, it is incongruous.
Look! Here's a photo we took of one in a ship back at base."

Hansen scanned the photograph. It was a meaningless jumble. He handed it
back. "Well, make yourself at home. I'm afraid that the only thing I can
help with will be radio communication to Captain Fromer's ship."

"Good enough," Bullard said. "I'm expecting someone else tomorrow. After
you bring him down, feel free to drop over and see me anytime."

* *