Meanwhile, high in the heavens above Tara, six Earthmen blasted into the flaming brilliance of the sun star. Using delicate instruments instead of claws, and their intelligence instead of blind hunger, they prepared to do battle with the sun star and force it to release the precious copper satellite from its deadly, consuming grasp.
The crew of the Polaris assembled on the control deck of the great spaceship, and facing their commanding officer, waited patiently for the word that would send them hurtling out to their target.
"The jet boats are all ready, sir," reported Tom. "We're dead ship in orbit around Junior at an altitude of about three hundred miles."
"Does that mean we're falling into the sun too?" gasped Shinny.
"It sure does, Mr. Shinny," said Alfie, "at more than twenty miles per second."
"The jet boats have enough power to get back from Junior to the Polaris, Mr. Shinny," reassured Tom. "And then the Polaris can blast off from here. The jet boats wouldn't go much higher off Junior this close to the sun."
"But if we go beyond the two-hour limit, the Polaris can't blast off either," commented Roger dryly.
"All right. Is everything set?" asked Connel. "Astro, is the reactant loaded?"
"No, sir," said Astro, "but it's all ready to go in."
"Good!" said Connel. "Now we all know how important—and how dangerous—this operation is. I don't have to tell you again. You stay here on the control deck, Tom, and keep in touch with us on Junior at all times. You know what to do?"