II Glass 5 showed that the forepeak and secondary chamber had been ripped open. Glass 5 also showed that bulkhead doors there had automatically closed. For the rest, excluding the motors, everything seemed in order. The oxygen suppliers were functioning smoothly on auxiliary batteries. Likewise the heat units, one for each level, showed normal operation. All lights were lit. Standish glanced out the port. Whatever the ship had struck, it was out of his vision range now. Propelled by the forward surge of the dying motors, the ship must have advanced a great distance since the fatal crash. Now the ship was drifting. Drifting without steerageway. "Derelict," Standish said slowly. "It looks like I've got a one-way ticket to eternity." He took the elevator down to the lower level again and made his way along the grating to the engine room. Carefully he examined the six ato-turbines with an experienced eye. Standish had grown up with atomic motors. He had served an apprenticeship at his father's solar plant at Sun City, and he had graduated from the New York School of Technology. As a boy of sixteen, he had built his first minature atom smasher during vacation days. Now he moved along the narrow catwalk between the motors, touching a wire here, an armature there. The two port engines, he found, were wrecked completely. Likewise the two starboard. Two forward machines remained, and of these he saw one had an inch-wide crack in its combustion chamber. But the other.... Standish drew in a breath of satisfaction. The last motor was disabled but not beyond repair. Without further ado, he peeled off his coat, seized a Stillson wrench and fell to work. It took him a long time, and the task drew his mind away from the horror about him. With the patience of long experience, Standish made his repairs. At length it was completed, and he paused with bated breath while he pressed the starting button. The motor began, sluggishly at first, then faster and faster. Presently it was droning evenly as if nothing had almost wrecked it earlier. "One motor isn't much," he told himself. "But it may be enough." For the third time he returned to the control room. There, triumph met his gaze. The master indicator showed a definite forward movement through space. The crippled ship was moving, though slowly. Standish turned his attention next to the visiscreens and emergency radio with which the liner had kept in contact with Earth and Sirius. Neither the transmitting nor the receiving sets showed any response when he turned on the control switch. A glance back of the panels showed shattered tubes and broken apparatus. He went out on the deck and climbed to the pilot cuddy. One look through the three-directional glassite shield told a grim story. But it was a full minute before the significance of it all probed into him.