Mr. Biggs Goes To Town

<p>One thing is certain. When bigger and better shirts are made the officials of the Corporation which underpays us will stuff 'em. We were squatting in a cradle on Earth waiting for flight orders when the control turret door swung open and in marched two owl-eyed zombies dressed in frowns and white mess jackets. </p><p>One of these looked at us then at a slip of paper. He said Donovan Herbert J.? Present I said but not accountable for. Otherwise known as 'Sparks.' What's the matter Satyr? Who found out what about me? Come ordered the stranger curtly with me! </p><p>And he jerked a thumb in the general direction of the doorway. Cap Hanson-he's the skipper of our space-shuttling freighter the Saturn-bridled like a mick at an Orangeman's Ball. If there's one thing he cannot tolerate it is hearing anyone else issue orders on his bridge. His brows congealed into fur-line cumulus clouds.</p>