Cautiously sliding down, a minute lifeship less than the size of a freight car came to a landing in the Terran Electric construction yard. Channing emerged, his face white. He bent down and kissed the steel grille of the construction yard fervently.
Someone ran out and gave Channing a brown bottle. Don nodded, and took a draw of monstrous proportions. He gagged, made a face, and smiled in a very wan manner.
"Thanks," he said shakily. He took another drink, of more gentlemanly size.
"What happened?"
"Dunno. Was coming in at three G. About four hundred miles up, the deceleration just quit. Like that! I made it to the skeeter, here, in just enough time to get her away about two miles ago. Whoosh!"
Don dug into his pocket and found cigarettes. He lit up and drew deeply. "Something cock-eyed, here. That stoppage might make me think that my tube failed; but—"
"You suspect that our tube isn't working for the same reason?" finished the project engineer.
"Yes. I'm thinking of the trick, ultra-high powered, concentric beams we have to use to ram a hole through the Heaviside Layer. We start out with three million watts of sheer radio frequency and end up with just enough to make our receivers worth listening to. Suppose this had some sort of Heaviside Layer?"
"In which case, Terran Electric hasn't got solar power," said the project engineer. "Tim, load this bottle into the Electric Lady, and we'll see if we can find this barrier." To Channing, he said: "You look as though you could stand a rest. Check into a hotel in Chicago and we'll call you when we're ready to try it out."