At 30,000,000 miles from the sun, the _Aphrodite's_ refrigeration units could no longer keep the interior of the ship at a comfortable temperature. The thermometer stood at 102°F, the very metal of the ship's fittings hot to the touch. Uniforms were discarded, insignia of rank vanished. The men dressed in fiberglass shorts and spaceboots, sweat making their naked bodies gleam like copper under the sodium-vapor lights. The women in the crew added only light blouses to their shorts ... and suffered from extra clothing. Strike was in the observation blister forward, when Ensign Graham called to say that she had picked up a radar contact sunward. The IFF showed the pips to be the _Lachesis_ and the _Atropos_. The two dreadnaughts were engaged in coronary research patrol ... a purely routine business. But the thing that made Strike curse under his breath was Celia Graham's notation that the _Atropos_ carried none other than Space Admiral Horatio Gorman, Cominch Inplan. Strike thought it a pity that old Brass-bottom couldn't fall into Hell's hottest pit ... and he told Ivy so. And she agreed. * * * * * Old Aphrodisiac had reached perihelion when it happened. The thermometer stood at 135° and tempers were snapping. Cob and Celia Graham had tangled about some minor point concerning Lover-Girl's weight and balance. Ivy went about her work on the bridge without speaking, and Strike made no attempt to brighten her sudden depression. Lieutenant Evans had punched Bayne, the Tactical Astrophysicist, in the eye for some disparaging remark about Southern California womanhood. The ratings were grumbling about the food.... And then it happened. Cob was in the radio room when Sparks pulled the flimsy from the scrambler. It was a distress signal from the _Lachesis_. The _Atropos_ had burst a fission chamber and was falling into the sun. Radiation made a transfer of personnel impossible, and the _Atropos_ skeeterboats didn't have the power to pull away from the looming star. The _Lachesis_ had a line on the sister dreadnaught and was valiantly trying to pull the heavy vessel to safety, but even the thundering power of the _Lachesis'_ mighty drive wasn't enough to break Sol's deathgrip on the battleship. A fleet of souped-up space-tugs was on its way from Luna and Venusport, but they could not possibly arrive on time. And it was doubtful that even the tugs had the necessary power to drag the crippled _Atropos_ away from a fiery end. Cob snatched the flimsy from Sparks' hands and galloped for the flying-bridge. He burst in and waved the message excitedly in front of Strykalski's face. "Have a look at this! Ye gods and little catfish! Read it!" "Well, dammit, hold it still so I can!" snapped Strike. He read the message and passed it to Ivy Hendricks with a shake of his head. She read it through and looked up exultantly. "This is _it_! This is the chance I've been praying for, Strike!"