Matt's forehead creased into a worried frown. "I don't know. I think they're trying to complete the Rocket for a flight."
"But that's crazy!" Moe exploded. "They don't have the supplies, they don't have the calculator power, they haven't got power for anything. We've seen to that. Gasoline generators for their spotlights—nothing else."
"I know, I know—it doesn't make sense." Matt shot a glance at Loevy, crouched at a nearby fire, and he lowered his voice. "And there was something Loevy said—about something more valuable than the ship itself—Look, Moe, we don't know how far the Ship had gone before the crash. Maybe all the calculations were completed."
Moe stared at the fire for a long moment. A tall, lanky man stumbled up the trail by flashlight, sending down a shower of pebbles. He stopped before the fire. "All quiet, Moe. They closed up shop after the delegation left."
Moe nodded to the man. "Tell Mike to alert his men, Tommy. Get everybody looking alive."
"What's up? Something about to break?"
The old man scowled. "I don't know. But I want everyone awake. Got it?"
The guard nodded, and vanished down the trail again. Moe turned to Matthews, a queer look in his eyes. "What do you think, Matt?"
"I think our time is running out," said Matthews.
"Maybe you worry too much."