ig gun at one of the top batteries, and the recorded and amplified
music of a band playing the traditional "Spacemen's Hymn."

"It's been a long time since I heard that played in earnest,"
Jacquemont said. "Well, we're off to see the Wizard."

The lights dwindled and merged into a tiny circle in the darkness of
the crater. The music died away; the cannon shots became a faint
throbbing. Finally, there was silence, and only the stars above and
the dark land and the starlit sea below. After a long while a sunset
glow, six hours past on Barathrum, appeared in the west, behind the
now appreciable curvature of the planet.

"Stand by for shift to vertical," Captain Nichols called, his voice
echoing from PA-outlets through the ship.

"Ready for shift, Captain Nichols," Jacquemont reported from the
duplicate-control panel.

Conn went to the after bulkhead, leaning his back against it. "Ready
here, Captain," he said.

Other voices took it up. Lights winked on the control panels.

"Shifting over," Nichols said. "Your ship now, Captain Jacquemont."

"Thank you, Mr. Nichols."

The deck began to tilt, and then he was lying on his back, his feet
against the side of the control room, which had altered its shape and
dimensions. There was a jar as the drive went on in line with the new
direction of the lift and the ship began accelerating. He got to his
feet, and he and Charley Gatworth went to the astrogational computer
and began checking the data and setting the course for the point in
space at which Koshchei would be in a hundred and sixty hours.

"Course set, Captain," he reported to Jacquemont, after a while.

A couple of lights winked on the control panel. There was nothing more
to do but watch Poictesme dwindle behind, and listen to the newscasts,
and take turns talking to friends on the planet.

They approached the halfway point; the acceleration rate decreased,
and the gravity indicator dropped, little by little. Everybody was
enjoying the new sense of lightness, romping and skylarking like newly
landed tourists on Luna. It was fun, as long as they landed on their
feet at each jump, and the food and liquids stayed on plates and in
glasses and cups. Yves Jacquemont began posting signs in conspicuous
places:

WEIGHT IS WHAT YOU LIFT, MASS IS WHAT HURTS
WHEN IT HITS YOU.
WEIGHT DEPENDS ON GRAVITY; MASS IS ALWAYS CONSTANT.

His father came on-screen from his office in Storisende. By then,
there was a 30-second time