"Lieutenant," he bellowed, "haven't you any more sense than to bring
contaminated clothing into the engine control room?"

Rip was sorry the deputy commander couldn't see him grinning under his
respirator. He said innocently, "No, sir, I haven't any more sense than
that."

The deputy grated, "I'll have you up before the Discipline Board for
this."

Rip was enjoying himself thoroughly. "I don't think so, sir. The
regulations are very clear. They say, 'It is the responsibility of the
safety officer to insure compliance with all safety regulations by both
complete instructions to personnel and personal supervision.' Your safety
officer didn't instruct us, and he didn't supervise us. You'd better run
_him_ up before the Board."

The deputy commander made harsh sounds into his respirator. Rip had him,
and he knew it. "He thought even a stupid Planeteer had sense enough to
obey radiation safety rules," he yelled.

"He was wrong," Rip said gently. Then, just to make himself perfectly
clear, he added, "Commander O'Brine was within his rights when he made us
rake radiation. But he forgot one thing. Planeteers know the regulations,
too. Excuse me, sir. I have to get my men decontaminated."

Inside the decontamination chamber, the Planeteers took off their masks
and faced Rip with admiring grins. For a moment he grinned back, feeling
pretty good. He had held his own with the spacemen, and he sensed that
his men liked him.