"We'll have to close and hook on as soon as possible," Stevens directed. "Break out the strongest line we have. When we get within a mile, shoot her out until you contact."
"But, sir, we can't get a line out in that if we try."
"We can—and will, Mister. Follow your orders."
"Yes, sir."
The Cerebus III edged in toward the penumbra. In the control room they staggered as the ship was caught up by the madly whirling rim atoms as they sought a passageway into the quiet area over the cooler gases surrounding the spot. Tensely the ship maneuvered its way toward the Regis.
Once they were within range, Bull and Skip could see on the screens the traction line from Cerebus III snake out toward the Regis. Time after time the line just missed. In all that chaos, making contact was worse than threading a needle with a lasso. At last the line struck and held the Regis amidships.
A sigh oozed from every man in the control room. Stevens looked at his watch. "Two hours gone. Now for the tough part."
He called down to the outer lock room through the intership voice tubes. "We've made contact. Have the communicator tube ready to swing out of the lock when I give notice. We are going to start hauling the Regis in toward us now. Be sure that you batten all contact points tight. The men on the Regis haven't any suits to withstand the radiations of the sun. Their only chance is to walk through that tube once you get in contact. A radiation leak down there will kill them all."
Then he called the engine room. "Open up easy."