He jerked the door partially closed, took his pilot’s seat, and started the jets. They choked and gave fitful bursts. Then they died. Rob grabbed up his heat gun and hopped outside. He crunched over dry ice to the rear of the space boat and began blasting into the jet tubes.
The numbing glacial cold seeped through his insulated boots and space dress. He stamped his feet as he worked. Now and then he cast a glance at the Capella, which was working free of the ice boulder and slipping downhill again. The instantaneous freezing nature of the climate was causing friction and helping to delay the huge craft to some extent.
A moment later, when Rob decided that the jet tubes were opened, a strange feeling came over him. It was a mixture of giddiness and sleepy lethargy.
“You’re freezing to death!” his subconscious warned. “Get moving! Get moving!” He shook himself and staggered back on numb legs to the door of the space boat. His head cleared as he forced open the door with the help of Duff from inside. He crawled in and slumped into his seat, panting heavily and drinking in gulps of sweet oxygen.
He dared not even think what would happen if the jets should not fire this time. He switched on the power and slammed his foot against the choking pedal. The jets sputtered, then quickened, then purred with regularity! Rob heaved a mighty sigh and opened the throttle. The space boat lifted into the sky with a jolt that caused the weary passengers to tumble against each other.
When they were well above the ground, Rob motioned for Duff to keep his eyes on the Capella, which was nearing its destruction. A moment later they saw it plunge into the oxygen lake, and Rob flinched. There followed a ghastly flash and roar, a detonation that was as fierce as Rob had predicted. The two young spacemen felt some of the shock currents even at their height. But they were safely above the danger, and that was all that really mattered.
Some hours later the Rigel was heading earthward again. As soon as he was permitted, Rob paid a visit to the infirmary where most of the crew of the Capella lay for treatment. In one of the beds Rob saw a familiar smiling face and touseled sandy head that warmed his heart.
“Hi, hero!” Jim Hawley greeted. He had a comical appearance with his cold-reddened ears and nose.
“How are you doing, Jim?” Rob asked, pressing his shoulder gently.
“Fine. I’ve got some frostbitten appendages, but the doc says I won’t lose any of them, thanks to you.”