"Examine me quick, buddy," I begged the waiting doctor, "while my blood
pressure is zero minus. Something tells me I don't _want_ to go along
on this expedition. Steichner!"
Lanse Biggs stared at me curiously.
"Why, don't tell me you're afraid, Sparks?"
"It's not that. It's just that I--I'm allergic to soap."
"Nonsense!" pooh-poohed his uncle. "Why, cleanliness is next to
godliness, Donovan."
"That's what the rulebooks say," I conceded. "But in this
case--cleanliness is next to insanity! Lead on, Sawbones. And here's
hoping my veins are positively acrawl with something terrible...."
* * * * *
But no such luck! As it turned out, we didn't wait for the results
of the medical examination to be tabulated before we lifted gravs.
Something--I wouldn't know what--upset the routine, with the result
that we took off that night for Iris. If you ask me, I think it was Cap
Hanson's doings. I think he was afraid he might not pass the physical,
and he wanted to be sure of being on the bridge for at least one more
trip on the _Saturn_.
So we lifted gravs and with Lanse Biggs at the studs set course and
traj for little Iris, a mere hop-skip-and-jump from Earth since we
were using the V-I unit. For the first time in a long while, Diane
Biggs didn't make the shuttle with us. Biggs' wife--the Old Man's
daughter--wasn't feeling up to par. Neither was _I_, but they didn't
give _me_ any raincheck!
Anyhow, in just a little longer time than it takes to digest a day's
victuals we were hovering in the strato a mile or so above the capital
city of Iris, identifying ourselves to the port authorities on the
ground below.
"Who are you," demanded the Iris dispatcher, "and what do you want
here?"
"I.P.C. freighter _Saturn_," I tapped back, "requesting privilege to
land under spacecode regulation 14, paragraph _iv_. May we come in?"
"Just a minute," advised my contact. He cleared and we waited
breathlessly. When he came back again, it was on the telaudio rather
than via the bug. The visor screen brightened, and we were looking
into the scowling pan of none other than the big boss himself, Otto
Steichner.
"Well?" he demanded.
Cap Hanson took over. He said boldly, "What seems to be the trouble,
sir? We made a simple request for permission to land. We are an
exploring expedition attempting to set up a new industry under
spacecode regula--"
"I know all about that," growled Steichner. "Well, you're wasting your
time, Captain. Iris has no natural resources, and wants no colonists.
You'd better try somewhere else."