Finally it was finished. Two million tons of potato fertilizer, one million tons of tractor fuel combined into a slimy pulp lay jammed into the largest crevice on the asteroid. A few hours later they were a thousand miles out in space.
“Now?” asked Banner.
“Now,” said Arnold.
With the viewscreen at maximum magnification, they watched as the asteroid blew itself into a thousand million pieces.
In the control cabin, a short week away from fleet contact, Banner was still gloating over the movies. “Look at these. Before and After. How many medals you think we can carry on our strong, manly chests?”
“I really couldn’t care less,” answered Harcraft. “While you’ve been sitting there enriching your fantasy life, I’ve solved the mystery of mysteries.”
“Out with it.”
“O.K. While our little friend has been lying on his bunk ruining his beady eyes on the micro-viewer, I’ve been asking myself significant questions. Question number one: What kind of person does it take to survive the inactivity and boredom of three, four, maybe six months in a space can like this? Answer: It takes a highly trained and conditioned person such as yours truly or yourself. Arnold is obviously not such a person.”
“Obviously.”