This brought general laughter. Under the circumstances, the question was not without its humorous aspect.
“What’ll you have?” Boone demanded.
“The refrigs, Boone! They are on the blink. Overstrained themselves and burned themselves out. Inside of half an hour this ship’s going to be an oven hot enough to kill us all!”
“Half an hour, men!” Ackerman Boone cried. “Now, do we take over the ship and man those lifeboats or don’t we!”
The roar which followed his words was a decidedly affirmative one.
“These are the figures,” Admiral Stapleton said. “You can see, Mr. President, that we have absolutely no chance whatever if we man the lifeboats. We would perish as assuredly as we would if we remained with the Glory of the Galaxy in normal space.”
“Admiral, I have to hand it to you. I don’t know how you can think—in all this heat.”
“Have to, sir. Otherwise we all die.”
“The air temperature—”