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third-period element other than aluminum and silicon to be identified on Titan.
    Study of presumably prebiotic substances had the main mission priority, of course. Whatever was decimating humanity was probably biological and therefore chemical in nature; new diseases, new varieties of older diseases, even newer combinations of both were appearing and spreading faster than causes could be identified and treatments devised. It had seemed at least possible that Titan might be in a prebiotic stage, and might provide origin-of-life data which could fill the still broad gaps in existing theory—broad in spite of the advanced development of pseudolife equipment. Of course even such data might not be meaningful for terrestrial biology, but with energy and construction expenses almost zero, this expedition or almost anything else seemed worth trying. Human beings were desperate and individually expendable; one might as well die usefully .
    And of course this was another excuse for a few people to get away from Earth, which might or might not be a good idea.
    No one had been sure, of course, that there would be anything even prebiological to study on Titan. Even the now obvious tectonic activity might not go deep enough to bring all the elements presumably needed for life from very deep in the satellite. That would depend on the still unknown causes of the seisms.
    Regardless of the fact that only two-thirds of the sample mass had been accounted for, Ginger Xalco snapped out emphatically, “Structure, for goodness’ sake.”
    No one suggested that the elemental analysis be finished first, certainly not Goodall, who might have pulled rank if he had chosen. He shared her feelings. He set the appropriate internal machinery to work while the lab crawled on to its next sample site, and its next, and its next.
    “It’s a gel, really,” he said at last. “The solvent—pardon me, dispersing agent—is methanol. Simple methyl alcohol. Most of the rest of the material seems to be polymers of one sort or another. Some of it’s carbohydrate, a lot has nitrogen, but it’s going to take a while to find whether we’re dealing with what we’d consider proteins—polypeptides made of the same amino acids we are.”
    “Left or right?” asked Collos and Martucci together.
    “You’ll have to wait even longer for that—”
    “Wait a minute!” Inger cut in. “Even at this temperature and gravity a gel has no business holding up a jet for very long. And it’s just been rained on! Gene, outside coverage! Quick! ”

STATUS
    Belvew didn’t bother to ask what his partner had noticed, but instantly but flicked his own screen back to the full-sphere coverage. For a moment he felt relief, since the standard view excluded the aircraft; but a moment’s manipulation let him see his keels. Without word, warning, or delay he fed the plasma arcs and tensely watched the longitudinal accelerometer, wishing once again that he could feel the jet’s response directly.
    For a moment the meter trembled around zero. The surface seemed to be clinging to the keels, which all could now see had sunk into it for several centimeters, and Belvew slowly increased thrust. Another black cloud appeared at the sides of the screen, supporting the idea that surface material was being boiled off by the exhaust. No one commented, yet.
    The glassy surface underneath was nearly featureless and for a second or two he was unsure whether or not it was letting Oceanus move at all. Then the accelerometer swung, the whole landscape suddenly jerked backward as the jet snapped free, and a moment later he—no, it was airborne.
    Goodall gave an indignant exclamation as his lab unit, in the path of the exhaust, stopped sending data.
    The pilot paid no attention for a moment as he concentrated on reaching ram speed as quickly as possible using a minimum of mass. It was Inger who expressed sympathy.
    “Sorry, Art. We can grow new labs much quicker than new planes. What else came in