"You're taking a chance, you know."
"That's where the favor part comes in. I want to go and look for Steve Hammond. I need your drive. And if you don't help me, I'll go out in space and tinker with the junk until I get it. I was there when you cooked it up, remember, and I have a good memory for details."
"But it's dangerous."
"Is it? 'Might be dangerous' is what you mean. And I've been taking harebrained chances for a long time, now. Do I or don't I?"
McBride thought for a long time. "You get it," he said at last. "On one condition. That you return in not less than one month. If you do not, I'm going to take it upon myself to follow. So no matter what you find, get back. Is that a promise?"
"It is."
"O.K., Sandra." McBride went to the wall of the big lock and spoke over the communicator. "Tommy! Get Al and Westy and tell 'em to bring their tools to the landing lock. We're going to juggle a few generators around."
To Sandra, he said: "I hope you've got plenty of what it takes."
"I have," she said, sensing his meaning. "Matter of fact, I've got the latest thing in alphatrons—two of 'em. And all the E-grav generators we'll need are all tacked into what I think are the right places to make this crate into a super-speed job. There are spares for all three fields, and a couple of spare cupralum bars, too. Even part of the wiring is done. I got just so far and then realized that I don't know too much about gravitics. That's when I decided to come here for help."
"Good thing," said McBride. "You might have killed yourself."