He had climbed to the observation scaffold and peeped idly through the periscope. His yell of dismay reverberated through the interior of the vessel.
"We're gonna hit the moon!" he shouted, as the others scrambled into view.
Marlin gained the platform. "What's the idea!" he demanded sharply. "We aren't within a million miles of the moon."
McGruder gulped, gesturing toward the periscope.
Marlin remained glued to the instrument until DuChane cut in roughly: "Give someone else a chance. What's out there?"
Marlin relinquished his post. His voice sounded unnaturally strained. "See for yourself."
It did look like a shrunken version of the old familiar moon—a gleaming disc shining brilliantly against the inky blackness of space.
"We're approaching a solar body of some sort," Marlin told the others, who had struggled up to the platform. His eyes inadvertently sought Pearl. "Maybe this is the answer to—" He broke off.
DuChane straightened from the eyepiece.
"Two to one it means a crackup," he commented. "Unless Eli knows how to guide this shebang—and I don't believe he does."