Warren grinned. "Heard of sun-baths, haven't you? Well, all of us nearly took one. Only not in the sun's rays, but in old Sol itself. Remember that time day before yesterday when the ship stalled for a minute, then trembled and went on?"
"Yes. I thought something had gone wrong with the motors."
"It did," grunted Warren. "Solar rays locked 'em. Hysteresis, you know. If O'Day hadn't jumped to those controls and done something—God knows what—Sol's gravitation might have pulled us in and then ... blooie!
"I'm telling you, I'm glad he's along on this trip. Frankly, I don't know whether I could have pulled us out of it myself."
Gary said, "And I'm glad I didn't know about it until it was all over! It is all over? We're in good shape now?"
"Yes. Though I'm afraid the jets may be a bit warped from the beating they took. Not enough to cause us any trouble, I guess, but we'll have to have them fixed up when we get to Mars."
"And that should be—?"
"Oh, at least another ten days. Might as well relax and enjoy yourself. Speaking of which—" Warren's tone altered suddenly—"there's something I'd like to mention. I hardly know how to say it, but—"
Gary stared at him puzzledly. "Well, go ahead."
"It's about Nora ... Miss Powell. I mean—I never quite understood the setup between you two. I don't want to poach on a friend's preserves, but in this instance—"