Mister Mullin glanced at his chronometer. "Take-off in fifteen minutes," he warned. "Strap yourselves into your bunks."
He disappeared at a run. The guards filed out of the prisoner's mess locking the door behind them.
"Come along," Thorp urged Joel as a wild clangor broke out from the stem to stern of the Zenith. "We've time for a quick look around before we get settled."
Joel followed him wordlessly into the sleeping quarters. Beyond the fo'cs'le were the washrooms and that was all. A second bell rang just as they flung themselves into empty bunks.
The rumble of the tubes mounted into a furious roar. A trip hammer struck Joel in the chest, pinned him into the cushion. He gasped, strained to inflate his lungs.
The Zenith was off!
IV
Joel felt himself grow heavier, heavier. His arms were lead. The sweat glistened on his homely drawn features. His green eyes lost their sparkle.
After what seemed hours, he heard Nick Thorp croak from his bunk overhead, "Watch y'self. Stellar drive! Any minute!"