"Nuts to the psychiatrists," Crag declared with a certainty he didn't feel. "Men don't break when their survival depends on their sanity." "No?" The single word came across the void, soft and low. "We can do it," Crag persisted. "All right, I agree with the plan. I think you're wrong but you're the Commander in the field." His voice was flat. "Good luck." He cut off abruptly. Crag looked at the silent panel for a moment. Another problem, another solution required. Maybe Gotch was right. Maybe they'd all wind up as candidates for the laughing academy--if they lived long enough. The thought didn't cheer him. Well, he'd better get moving. There was a lot to be done. He looked up and saw the question in Prochaska's eyes. Might as well tell him, he thought. He repeated the information Gotch had given, together with his plan. Prochaska listened quietly, nodding from time to time. When he finished, they discussed the pros and cons of Crag's proposed course of action. Prochaska thought it would work. In the end they decided to pursue the plan without telling the others the full story. It might be the breaking point, especially for Nagel, and they would be needing a good oxygen man in the coming days. Crag got on the interphone and called Larkwell, who was working in the tail section with the others. "Judging from what you've seen of Bandit, how long would it take to make it livable as crew quarters?" "Why?" he asked querulously. "I haven't time to go into that now," Crag said evenly. "Just give me your best estimate." "You can't make it livable. It's hot." "Not that hot. You've just got the radiation creeps. Let's have the estimate." Larkwell considered a moment. "There's quite a weld job on the hull, assuming we could get the necessary patch metal from Bandit. We'd have to haul one helluva lot of gear across that damned desert--" "How long?" Crag cut in. "Well, three days, at least. But that's a minimum figure." "That's the figure you'll have to meet," Crag promised grimly. "Start now. Use Nagel and Richter. Load up the gear you'll need and get in a trip before chow." "Now?" Larkwell's voice was incredulous. "What about winding up this job first? The airlock is damned important." "Drop it," Crag said briefly. There was silence at the other end of the interphone. "Okay," the construction boss grumbled finally. Crag suggested that Prochaska make the first trip with them to look over Bandit's electronic gear. He would need to know what repairs and modifications would be necessary to make it usable. The Chief was delighted. It would mark the first time he'd been out of the space cabin since the day of their landing. * * * * *