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himself to drift slowly on, studying the details of the hull. The port-holes were about one metre in diameter, he judged. The transparent “glass” flashed annoyingly as it caught the sunlight. At fifty metres, he tried very hard to peer through one of the port-holes; but the reflected light stopped him. He would have a better chance when he touched down.
    The rods projecting from the hull were of two kinds. One type was about two metres long and appeared to be hollow, the other type was about half a metre less and seemed solid. At various points along the hull there were large, hexagonal indentations. Conrad could not make up his mind about the function of the rods. They could be part of a system of telecommunications, they could be some kind of weapons—which he doubted—or they could belong to an energy dispersal system. Assuming the vessel was powered by nuclear reactors, that seemed the most likely explanation. But he was fairly confident that he knew the purpose of the hexagonal indentations. They were some three metres in diameter, and they were probably airlock entry ports.
    At twenty metres, he’ was able to see that the hull— which before had seemed perfectly smooth—was pitted and scarred. Evidently, it had endured much bombardment from tiny meteors and other minute flotsam of space. Which argued that it had been around for a long time. A very long time.
    Gently he drifted a few more metres, then expertly reversed his attitude so that he could make contact feet first. He hoped the hull was of steel so that his magnetic boots would give him stability.
    But the hull was not made of steel. He hit it lightly and bounced off. He had to use the vertical stabilisation jet on top of his head-piece to get him down and make him stay down. Which was a pity, because constant use of the stabilisation jet would decrease the time available for power manoeuvres .
    Well, if the hull wasn’t steel it was probably titanium. In the Solar System, titanium was very expensive and not very plentiful. Maybe in the system where this vessel had originated, titanium was the cheap metal and iron the costly one.
    He made radio contact with the Santa Maria . “I have arrived safely. No problems, no signs of life.”
    “So we have observed,” replied Kwango. “What are your intentions, Commander?”
    “I’m going to kick on the hull. Somehow I don’t think I’m going to see any curious face peering through the portholes. But first I’ll try to look inside. I don’t think I shall see much… The power system probably folded long ago… The skin of this thing isn’t steel—I can’t use my magnetic soles and I’m having to use the vertical jet to keep me down. I think it may be made of titanium. Anyway, it’s been around a bloody long t im e. There are lots of typical micro-meteor scorings all over it… I’ve noticed a number of hexagonal markings that look as if they might be air-locks. If I can’t kick any response out of the vessel, I’ll torch my way through one of the airlocks.”
    “O.K., Boss. Take it easy. Lieutenant Smith is still hypnotised by the D.M.W. button.”
    Indira came in. “If it is dead, James, why not just leave it?”
    “Because we need to find out why it was here—if we can. We need to find out what kind of people operated it and whether they could have any possible connection with the rings of Tantalus. Over and out.”
    Conrad walked carefully to the nearest port-hole. He peered through the “glass” and saw nothing but blackness —as he had expected. He straightened up and stamped heavily on the hull. The force of the action—despite the thrust of his vertical jet—lifted him three metres clear of the hull. He came back and stamped again, with the same result. He went through the procedure four times. Then he peered once more through a port-hole. There was nothing to be seen.
    He reported back to the Santa Maria . “I’ve had enough of being a yo-yo. I’m going to torch my way in. If