Eisberg had been picked as the planet to transfer the potentially dangerous Snookums to for two reasons. In the first place, if Snookums actually did solve the problem of the total-annihilation bomb, the worst he could do was destroy a planet that wasn’t much good, anyway. And, in the second place, the same energy requirements applied on Eisberg as did on Chilblains Base. It was easier to cool the helium bath of the brain if it only had to be lowered 175 degrees or so.
It was a great place for cold-work labs, but not worth anything for colonization.
Chief Powerman’s Mate Multhaus looked gloomily at the figures on the landing sheet.
Mike the Angel watched the expression on the chief’s face and said: “What’s the matter, Multhaus? No like?”
Multhaus grimaced. “Well, sir, I don’t like it, no. But I can’t say I dislike it, either.”
He stared at the landing sheet, pursing his lips. He looked as though he were valiantly restraining himself from asking questions about the other night’s escapade—which he was.
He said: “I just don’t like to land without jets, sir; that’s all.”
“Hell, neither do I,” admitted Mike. “But we’re not going to get down any other way. We managed to take off without jets; we’ll manage to land without them.”
“Yessir,” said Multhaus, “but we took off with the grain of Earth’s magnetic field. We’re landing across the grain.”