“I am.”
Everybody turned around to see who else had entered the conversation. It was Hansen. “I’m going to give you fifteen minutes, not thirty,” Hansen said. “Then I’m going to turn the grid power on at full intensity. You can either use it to take off, or sit around and roast alive inside your ship.” Candle turned and looked at Hansen with new respect. “Okay . . . Let’s go back to your place. I’ve still got some things to figure out.”
Quemos was on the verge of hysteria. “You’re bluffing! You wouldn’t dare. I’ll report this!”
Fifteen minutes later, the ship headed for space.
Back in Hansen’s room, the two men ate a quick lunch, then sat at the table and talked about Candle’s plans for opening the reluctant door. “The way I figure it,” Candle said, “I think that we can handle the whole thing by radio. Which reminds me, one of these days I’m going to build a telescreen that will transmit and receive through pseudo-met. Not too difficult really if you approach the problem—”
“I better get Fromer for you,” Hansen said hurriedly.
“Fromer here,” said the bass voice.
“This is Candle. Let me talk to one of your so-called engineering officers.”
“Who the hell—”