Mike sobered. "We don't know what we can do. We're still not out of the woods. There's a little problem of landing a dead ship on that planet after we come within range of its gravity. Then, too, heaven only knows where we'll set down. If it's a big planet—"
Instead of wincing before this new peril, Doree stiffened against it. "I'm sure you'll do all that any man could do."
"I'll do my best."
"And so long as the whole disaster was our fault—"
"Forget it." Mike conscious of a warmth rising within him, took his eyes quickly from her face and went to check ship....
The slow passage of time was the most difficult factor to contend with. Mike wracked his brain for a means of speeding up the Space Queen. He was confident that the craft was moving straight and true in the wake of the other ship and that unless drastic adjustments were made in the course, she would continue to do so. But so slowly—so very slowly. Acceleration caused by the magnetic field had long-since reached its apex and now the Space Queen moved at a steady unchanging pace.
He achieved a little more speed by taking charges from three of the primers, placing them in the pile head, and igniting with the fourth primer. He picked up possibly two Gs before the power burned out.
He and Nicko donned space suits, magnetized themselves aft, and opened the suit's drive plugs to the maximum. The resulting force smashed them against the hull, almost breaking their ribs. Some additional acceleration was achieved but pathetically little.
Who would have thought, Mike pondered bitterly, that I'd land out here pushing my own ship through space? What a laugh the wits at Outer Port would get when and if this little adventure was sounded around. If—that was the big word that stuck in Mike's mind.