Hours later, in a spacesuit, he was overseeing removal of the camouflaging which had turned the hidden ship into an irregular rock protuberance. Gangs of workmen swarmed over the savage surface of the asteroid, clearing away staging, loading supplies, and putting the ship in readiness for take-off.
Doubts forgotten, Wilding threw himself into the work. He was in his glory. Everything was working smoothly. Too smoothly. The work of trans-shipping was approaching completion when disaster struck.
Tiny came out to him with word that Grouth and Concor wanted him in the control room of the giant spacer christened Starship I. Her face was very grave.
"It was a good try," she whispered as they entered the control room.
Wilding did not need to ask the trouble. Grouth's and Concor's faces told him everything.
"The patrol cruisers?"
Grouth nodded. "I've made contact with them."
Wilding whistled. "As close as that!"
"Closer. Evidently, they've been there some time. Waiting for more ships to tighten up their blockade. They've mined all major orbits and are just completing the network of ships. You couldn't sneak a mouse through."
"Any chance to run the blockade?"