"Well, be sure we've got a clear trajectory out. Better take us into the sun Alpha Centauri. That way, maybe they'll miss us on their radar. The sun will show all sorts of blips on their screen."
"O.K.," said Mason. "You think he'll go for it?"
"I don't know," answered Loring, "but if he doesn't, it's going to be space dust for Manning."
Shinny got up and walked around the deserted power deck. His legs felt weak. The plan he had made was a desperate one. Over and over, he checked the operation in his mind. It would have to be quick, sure, and sudden. That was the only thing that would ensure success. "Yes, sir," he thought, "if we can surprise 'em, we can get away with it." He dug out a piece of chewing tobacco, took a bite, eyed the remaining piece, and then shoved the whole thing in his mouth. His cheek bulged.
He went to the intercom and flipped it on. "Hey, Loring," he yelled. "I've got to check the timer on number-three rocket. She's not acting just right. It'll take me about a minute."
"O.K.," came Loring's reply, "but make it snappy."
The timers were to the left of the control board, but Shinny turned to the right and the ladder leading to the lower deck. He eased the hatch open, glanced around, and then climbed down quickly. He stopped at a locker, opened the doors quietly, and took out two paralo-ray guns and two rifles. Then, closing the doors, he made his way to the opposite side of the ship.
"Hey, Manning!" he whispered through the closed storeroom hatch. "Can ya hear me?"
"Who is it?" asked Roger.
"Me—Shinny," hissed the wizened spaceman. He opened the hatch and Roger quickly stepped out.