Peter Duncan lay strapped, drugged and supine on one of the eightynarrow bucket-couches on the passenger deck and was miserably,continuously sick. It was not a nice steady nausea that a man couldadjust to. Nor even a rhythmic vertigo like one suffered from anocean liner wallowing in ground swells. It was a shifting, slidinginstability in three dimensions, as the Mars-bound vessel responded toautomatic radar controls.

The concept of interplanetary space being empty was long sincean exploded myth Duncan was reminded as the space ship veered,accelerated, decelerated and corrected course to avoid collision withmeteorites approaching from thousands of miles away.

That seventy-nine other passengers and the whole crew were sufferingas much as he, was little comfort. They, at least, had a substantialreason for being here. Aside from the money, in which Duncan, too,shared, these others were vital players in an enormous game, supplyingenergy-starved earth with fissionable materials from the inexhaustiblemines of Mars.

The single ship was the only link between the two planets, and itrepresented earth's greatest extravagance in history. The passengers,replacements for eighty mine workers who had served their four yearsand 100 days contract time, provided the essential manpower. Forthem it was important work and brought them not only the $100,000contract fee, but also membership in the highly honored and exclusivefellowship of the Mars Society. Back on earth they were assured alife-long position of fame and wealth. To facilitate the recruiting offuture crews, public relations man, Peter Duncan, was to see to it thatromance and glamour surrounded the Mars Society with honor bright and ayard wide.

And it wasn't easy. The rigors of the round trip, alone, were nosecret on earth. After thirty years operation, most visions of romancein space flight had been dissipated by the grim details of thestomach-wrenching journey.

Duncan was new to the job. And too young for the job, he had thought.But now the joker was apparent. Senior publicity men in the employ ofGeneral Fission enjoyed the high pay and conventional public relationswork with their feet comfortably secure on earth. But G.F. needed a25-year-old for this assignment that broke all precedents. Experiencecame only with age. And age was the disqualifier for space ship travel.It was not his Phi Beta Kappa key his employers admired, but hisyouthful circulatory system, his sturdy, compact skeletal structure andabove all his emotional stability quotient.

And the world-shaking assignment for this proud package of manhood wasto track down the meaning and implications of a song. A song that hadseeped out of the bistros and night clubs of earth, a song that couldhave no other origin than returned space miners. There were endlessverses to it, but the last lines were always similar. Several stanzasran through Duncan's brain to the tune of the ancient patriotic ballad,America The Beautiful.