"We're finished, sir," said Tom simply.
"Finished?" exploded Connel. "You mean—"
"That's what he means, skipper," said Shinny. His eyes were bloodshot for want of sleep, but there was a merry twinkle left tugging at the corners.
"Everything?" asked Connel.
"Everything, sir," said Roger. "The power units are built and the fuses installed. All it needs is to be set. Tom's worked out the ratios and the amount of reactant fuel needed in each unit for escape tangent. The escape time, combining orbital speeds of Tara and Junior, are completed, and we have six hours and fifty-five minutes before blast-off!" He turned and rumpled Alfie's hair. "Alfie and I have completed the communications unit and have tested it. Junior is ready to get his big kick in the pants!"
Connel stood up. He was speechless. It was almost too much to believe.
"Get below," he roared, "and go to sleep! If I catch one of you awake in five minutes, I'll log you fifty demerits!"
The tired workers grinned back at their commander.
"I'll get everything set," said Connel, "and wake you up an hour before we have to get things ready. Now hit the sack!"
Their grins spreading even wider on their haggard faces, they turned away. Connel stepped to the desk on the control deck and wrote across the face of the logbook page.