When the ship moved in exposure to the sun, the ports had to be shielded with filter screens. An outside movable reflector blind, highly polished and operated automatically by a thermostat, reflected away much of the heat and light.
Despite its dangerous aspects, the sun was a magnificent object. Its white-hot surface was eye-searing bright and showed dark islands of sunspot activity, any one of which could swallow Earth. Its edges threw out mountainous red tides that lapped outward many thousands of miles into the black deeps. It was a sight that brought a lump of awe into one’s throat.
When he was on duty at the ’scope, Rock used the ship’s small refracting telescope to see the little yellow disc of Mercury, dwarfed like a pinhead beside a grapefruit, against the sun. It reminded Rock of a small dog taunting a larger one, daring it to attack, yet forever skipping nimbly out of the way with its agile speed.
The hours of search drew into a full space day, then another, with no sign of the ghost ship. Even if the Dog Star had been off course a few hundred miles, a ship as large as the Northern Cross could not have slipped by unnoticed.
Finally Rock had to make a gloomy announcement. “In another hour we’ll have made a complete revolution of Venus,” he told all ten of them who were gathered around. “If we don’t come across the Northern Cross by then, it means she’s not in her orbit. She’s either crashed on Venus or has gone out into space. We’ve been accelerating faster than an object in free fall around Venus. She couldn’t have outrun us.”
Kalmus’ big palm slapped the table. “I won’t stand for being licked, Rock! I’ve built my hopes so high on this thing!” His pale eyes glared restlessly and there was a red suffusion over his face.
Rock reminded him, “The matter isn’t in our hands. We’ve done all we can do.”
Kalmus lapsed into nervous silence as the minutes ticked off. He haunted the radarscope most of the time and even tried to look for the ship with the refractor, a tedious job. He was in a constant fidget, alternately pacing and putting his eye to the instrument.
Now only fifteen minutes remained. There was still no sign of the ghost ship. Rock also was beginning to feel a growing despondency. Up until now he had not considered the consequences of failure. Now it shocked him to do so. He and his friends would be indebted to Kalmus for years to come for their share in the venture. They would either have to slave at the space station again, and eat humble crow, or try to find other jobs back on Earth.
But this wasn’t all of the story. A failure would close off for all time the hope that had lived in him ever since he had known of his father’s disappearance. He would have to resign himself to the thought that his father and his ship would speed along with its lifeless cargo to the ends of the universe seemingly, never to be recovered. And worse, Merrill Memorial Hospital would remain only a shattered dream that might have been.