"I think that both of those ideas are sound," Crane assented, and each man bent to his task.
Crane took his photographs and studied each of the six key nebulae with every resource of his ultrarefined instruments. Having determined the Skylark's course and speed, and knowing her acceleration, he was able at last to set upon the power bar an automatically varying control of such a nature that her resultant velocity was directly toward the lenticular nebula nearest her former line of flight.
That done, he continued his observations at regular intervals—constantly making smaller his limit of observational error, constantly so altering the power and course of the vessel that the selected Galaxy would be reached in the shortest possible space of time consistent with a permissible final velocity.
And in the meantime Seaton labored upon the projector. It had been out of the question, of course, to transfer to tiny Two the immense mechanism which had made of Three a sentient, almost a living, thing; but, equally of course, he had brought along the force-band transformers and selectors, and as much as possible of the other essential apparatus. He had been obliged to leave behind, however, the very heart of the fifth-order installation—the precious lens of neutronium—and its lack was now giving him deep concern.
"What's the matter, Dickie? You look as though you had lost your last friend." Dorothy intercepted him one day as he paced about the narrow confines of the control room, face set and eyes unseeing.
"Not quite that, but ever since I finished that fourth-order outfit I've been trying to figure out something to take the place of that lens we had in Three, so that I can go ahead on the fifth, but that seems to be one thing for which there is absolutely no substitute. It's like trying to unscrew the inscrutable—it can't be done."
"If you can't get along without it, why didn't you bring it along, too?"
"Couldn't."
"Why?" she persisted.