“Gotcha,” Jerry said. Steve nodded. They both wore their watches outside their overgarments, Jerry on his right wrist, Steve on his left. Mask and mouthpiece should protect against a poisonous atmosphere, at least long enough for them to get away. The gear ought to keep out germs, too. But if superheated steam or frigid methane came out …

That was why Dale had asked for volunteers. And he’d got two. Why he’d got two—

Worry about it later, Jerry told himself. If you can.

“You guys ready?” Dave asked. Behind the mask, Jerry looked at Steve. The older man was looking back at him. Neither of them said no. Dave set his hand first on Steve’s shoulder, then on Jerry’s. “Good luck. I mean it, from the bottom of my heart.”

He undogged the watertight door that gave access to the center well from floor level. Jerry stuck in the breathing apparatus’s mouthpiece. It tasted rubbery, but not unpleasant. Inhale through your mouth, exhale through your nose, just like you’ve practiced.

As the door opened, he flicked the valve that started air flowing. He stepped out into the moon pool. Steve followed. Dave shut the door behind them. Jerry heard him secure it, too. They were on their own.

Humpty Dumpty seemed much bigger when you looked up at it, not down on it. The enormous egg, Jerry thought, and flashed on another of the very first sort-of-sf books he’d ever read. Clementine looked a lot more massive this way, too. A couple of thousand tons of steel? He believed every ounce.

People were peering down at Steve and him from the edge of the moon pool. Jack Porter was filming with a movie camera. Someone else immortalized the moment on videotape. Jerry couldn’t see who; the video camera was bulkier than the 16-millimeter movie machine.

Since the mouthpiece didn’t let him talk, he printed on a scratch pad and held it up for Steve to see: Let’s do it. He couldn’t wear his glasses under the mask, so he had to hold the pad close to his face to see what he was doing.

Steve gave him a thumbs-up. They walked toward the capture vehicle’s center claw … and toward the circle scribed in Humpty Dumpty’s nacreous shell. The claw had moved away enough to let a reasonably slim person slip between it and the starship. Jerry and Steve both qualified.

Jerry remembered every moment leading up to his doctoral orals the winter before. He remembered leaving the department lounge with Professor Krikorian and walking across the hall to the conference room where the rest of the examining committee waited. He remembered how tight his necktie felt. He didn’t wear them very often, and got reminded why every time he did. And he remembered the dreadfully final click as the conference-room door closed behind him.