Art Eastburn frowned. "How about the air supply, Fred? With no compartmentations, one big enough hole and most of the ship's air supply could escape before we could patch up." "Good point," Hiller replied, "but if the hole were as large as you may be imagining, the blast pressure would probably blow out ports and open seams, leaving us in hopeless shape. The smaller holes, on the other hand, could be patched, the kind we expect. I have reason to believe that won't be a problem. A hunch, maybe." "I guess we can let you get by with one hunch," Eastburn smiled wryly. "But I can see what you're getting at on the odds you mentioned. Considering Hollender's estimates on the spacing of this fruit-sized stuff, I might not take your bet." "Another factor," the commander noted, finishing his drink. "You don't go through a barbed-wire fence standing up." "Granted," agreed Merrick. "Are you giving again with that ballpoint?" "Last time," promised Hiller. He held the pen over the grill, pointing it at the approximate angle the ship was to take through the Inner Belt. "That's the way we're heading now. We've set the gyros to keep our nose in front, for the time being, to satisfy tradition and maintain a consistent sighting base. "Our main problem is avoiding perpendicular strikes and encouraging oblique ones. The position of the ship in relation to the particle direction becomes important, then." He moved his ballpoint at nearly a 45-degree angle to the grill lines. "We won't head in the course indicated by the nose, but we'll gyro the ship to this position. That way we obtain the maximum deflection." The men were silent momentarily. Merrick suddenly sat up straight. "It seems to me pointing the nose right at the asteroid flow would be better." "You forget our transit velocity, Del," the commander observed. "We'd be chancing running into as many particles perpendicularly with the ship lengthwise at two m.p.s. as we would miss by pointing our nose at those catching up with us at about the same speed." Merrick threw up his hands. "Okay, okay," he surrendered. "All I hope is you math boys have it figured right." "We're running it through the calculator to round off the rough edges," Hollender assured him. The silence grew until the commander stood up and asked. "So, on the basis of what we've covered, am I too much of a gambler in going ahead?" The others had risen and Eastburn was the first to offer his hand, the others following. They spoke at the same time their assurance and backing. But Hiller's thoughts were already dwelling on the most bothersome variable of all--Phil Bleck. When he discovered from Hollender before he left that Bleck had no idea when the ship would enter the Inner Belt, the variable began to assume minor proportions. * * * * * "Test drill 30 minutes! Test drill 30 minutes!"