"There's nothing out there! No ground—no hillside—no crater—no scaffolding—nothing! Nothing but stars. Stars and blackness."
DuChane moistened his lips.
"It's an illusion," whispered Marlin. "We can't be—"
He glanced up at the girders. The shadows were still shifting in a weird dance to the cadence of swaying lights.
"I know when it happened," he breathed hoarsely. "I woke up—a little past midnight—with a terrible sense of oppression. Felt as if I were being crushed. It must have been the acceleration."
DuChane swallowed. "Nothing like that now. In fact, it's just the opposite—a touch of weightlessness. We'd better find Eli—have it out with him."
The bearded scientist was snoring furiously on his pallet in the control room. They woke him without ceremony.
DuChane interrupted the diatribe that trembled on the older man's lips.
"What right had you to do this?" he accused. "How do you know you can get us back safely? Damn it all!" DuChane's anger rose as the full enormity of the situation broke over him. "How do you expect to steer the crazy thing—find your way back—land it? That dinky periscope is about as useful for guidance as a cigarette lighter in a blizzard!"
Eli stiffened. "If you gentlemen will kindly explain what you are talking about!"