“Blast out! Mr. Mate,” said Captain Varms, coolly impersonal. “I’ll give further orders when we’re outside.” He stripped off his gloves and tossed them onto the chart rack, then began to study the meteorological instruments grouped on one of the indicator panels. He frowned importantly as he glanced knowingly from mesotron detector to argonometer. “Promises to be dirty weather upside,” he coughed wisely.
Sullenly, his cheeks flushed with impotent anger, Sam Truman jabbed the key home that set off the warning howlers outside the hull. Tiny lights twinkled on the monitor as the gas-tight doors slid shut and locked themselves. Ben Tiggleman’s “Ready” light glowed over the firing lever. Sam unlocked the main rocket release, clutched the safety grips, and shoved the lever home. With a shudderi
