Timbie’s hands flew over the controls rapidly. “Some day, after the contracel principle has really been perfected, we’re going to have ships that are practically without inertia so long as the power’s on. Ships that can stop dead like that without any terrifying results and go back the way they came as neat as the ancient’s trains on their tracks. But we have to decelerate slowly or we’re basket cases, if anybody ever finds us at all.”
“Wherever they are,” mused Nick, “it’s going to be one sweet job finding the planetoid in this space. It’ll be practically invisible because of the distance from the sun. We may go by it a couple of times.” He jabbed a call button sharply then spoke into a mike. “Grenville? What’s doing? Oh, you are!” He turned to the others. “Our chemical engineer is turning his inventive genius to a superior blend of the rocket blast. How lovely.”
“Noble pastime,” put in Dorothy. “The last batch was pretty raw—I think it would have dissolved my teeth if I hadn’t swallowed it quickly.”
“Listen,” yelped Nick. “Lay off the monkey business for a minute and attend. Hop down to the observation room and look for a small planetoid—I don’t know—could be any port. Use maximum magnification because it may be small—oh, big enough to hold a ship about this size perhaps. Possibly—quite probably dark. Signal us as soon as you see something.”
“If he’s been sampling his wares, he’s likely to see anything,” suggested Marquis.
“That being the case,” replied Nick, “you’d better go down and help him, all of you. It’s a tough job for one man in any condition.”
“Coming?” inquired Marquis of Dorothy. She shook her head.
“Yaaah!” he jibed. “Captain’s pet!”