everyone was awake before dawn. they made coffee on the heater, and broke out protein biscuits for breakfast.

as the tiny sun winked into view over the horizon, they loaded the sled. corbett slouched toward the idling engine at the tail of the sled.

"no, get on amidships," said wofforth. "i'll take over engine."

"my job—" began corbett.

"you're relieved. strap yourself on the ration boxes. that's right. jenks, steer again. make for the level ahead."

with his right hand wofforth ran a length of pliable cable around his waist and through a ring-bolt on the decking. he touched the engine controls, and they pulled away from camp.

the sled coursed over great knoll-like swellings of the terrain, coated with the dull-pale frozen atmosphere. beyond, it gained speed on a vast flat plain, almost as smooth as a desert of glass.

"what's this big rink. lieutenant?" asked jenks.

"maybe a sea, or maybe just a sunken area, full of solid gases. stand by the helm, i'm going to gun a few more m. p. h. out of her."

"no wind," grunted corbett. "nothing moving except us. the floor of hell."

"if you was in hell, the rest of us would be better off," said jenks sourly.

wofforth began to sing, though he did not feel like it:

trim your nails and scrape your face,

they're all on the other side of space!

tokyo—baltimore, maryland—

hong kong—paris—samarkand—

tokyo—london—troy—fort worth—

the happy towns of the planet earth....

at camp that night he wrote in the log book:

second day: course due west. run 1014 mi. to go 8576 mi. approx. supplies adeq. spirits fair....

"what's for supper?" bawled corbett, entering. "i could eat a horse."

"that'd be cannibalism," said jenks at once.

"yah, you splinter! don't eat any lizards, then."

spirits good, wofforth corrected his entry, and closed the log book. he thought of lya stromminger. she was a most efficient officer. her hair was black as night on pluto, and her eyes as bright as the faraway sun.