The little wizened face came out of it, grinning like a monkey's. "It works, sir! I was in a good five minutes. Look here—the glass lens is all pitted and scored, but the mica isn't touched. Something funny out there in that ocean, though."
"What do you mean?"
"Something with legs, only they weren't exactly legs, either—"
"Careful with that space suit there, Jake. Material's brittle after that cold."
Adam raised his voice. "Look here men. We have a job on our hands. We must make and install port covers for every port on the ship. You know, the regular collision covers—beryll-steel. Jake, go up forward and get a dozen men, while you, Bjornsen, fix those mica covers on a dozen space suit helmets. Make it snappy, for Heaven's sake. We have just one hour to work in."
"Beg pardon, sir, but wouldn't it be easier to do it outside this atmosphere?"
"Haven't the fuel. Hurry!"
The ship rang with orderly disorder, as man after man of the off-duty watch reported, received the space suit with the new mica windows, and passed out through the air-lock in compartment eighteen to join the others who were adjusting protective collision-shutters over the big ship's ports. The last man through, Adam embarked on an inspection tour of the ship. Compartment 23 checked—all ports shuttered; compartment 22—
A bell rang violently, and the loudspeaker system shouted: "First Mate Longworth wanted in the Captain's cabin at once. First Mate Longworth wanted—"
"First Mate Longworth reporting," Adam remarked into his chest phone, and hurried along the corridor.