Greg nodded solemnly, watching Russ fill the bowl and apply the match.
Except for the small crew, they were alone in the Invincible. John Moore Mallory and the others were on their own worlds, forming their own governments, carrying out the dictates of the people, men who would go down in solar history.
The Invincible hung just off Callisto. Russ looked out at the mighty moon, saw the lonely stretches of its ice-bound surface, saw the silvery spot that was the dome of Ranthoor.
"All done,” said Greg, “except for one thing."
"Go out and get Chambers and the others,” said Russ, puffing at the pipe.
Greg nodded. “We may as well get started."
Russ rose slowly, went to the wall cabinet and lifted out a box, the mechanical shadow with its tiny space field surrounding the fleck of steel that would lead them to the Interplanetarian. Carefully he lifted the machine from its resting place and set it on the desk. Bending over it, he watched the dials.
Suddenly he whistled. “Greg, they've moved! They aren't where we left them!"
Greg sprang to his side and stared at the readings. “They're moving farther away from us… out into space. Where can they be going?"
Russ straightened, scowling, pulling at the pipe. “They probably found another G-type star, and are heading for that. They must think it is old Sol."