THEY WORKED IN SHIFTS, eating and sleeping when they could, Caxton doing the crude work, Headley putting the final touches upon the delicate task that was theirs.
And forty hours later they stood in admiration of the job they had done. New metal tubes glowed redly in the light of the radi-lamps, ready to send the ship hurtling back toward inhabited space. They still sparkled from the heat generated when Headley had given them a trial burst of power.
“And that’s that,” Headley said. His face was grim and lined, and his smile was a trifle forced.
Bart Caxton nodded, but his eyes were on the bank of dials that indicated the quantity of oxygen still aboard the ship. His lips were thin, and his eyes blank, as he made swift calculations in his chaotic mind.
“Let’s blast off,” he said.
Tom H
