Pilot Drake sent the power lever home at thirty feet per, and watched the accelerator climb to exactly thirty, where it stopped and hung. Minutes passed, and the meter read constant.
Steve Hammond smiled wider and wider as the minutes added into a quarter hour. "I think our cupralum hull is helping," he said.
"How?" asked Pete.
"Why, it is collecting enough leakage-warp to create a nice large warp of its own—in which we now travel, and in which the accelerometer reads only that factor 'R' of Mac's. That meter reads the rate of change of acceleration. Drake, step it up to sixty."
Sandra advanced the drive, and the meter went up to sixty even.
"We're on the ball," said Hammond.
"We sure are," said McBride, passing a forefinger over his cheek. "It's hot in here."
"I know. And you can call the Lens and tell the Doc we're on our way."
"I tried that. The lines were busy, so I shot 'em a 'gram. They know now that we're coming."
"I wonder if your math is correct," said Steve.