And part of it was due to the nature of the job, enigmatically. They were working on something entirely new. It was interesting to watch the results pile up, and to add to the diary of the experiment the day's observations and the opinions of the workers. Then as the end came in sight, the inevitable irritation flared briefly as the technician tossed his chessboard aside with a snort and stamped to his quarters. It might have started a long chain of events if a real diversion had not presented itself, right in the technician's department. Maynard heard the communicator snap on, and listened. "Technician to Executive: Spacecraft approaching. Range extreme, about one point seven megs." "One million, seven hundred miles," said Maynard aloud. "Technician: can you get a reading?" "The cardex is chewing on the evidence, sir," came the reply. "Let me know as soon as you get the answer, Stan." "O.K. Here it is. It is the _Loki_, a private craft owned by the publisher, Kane. Want the vital statistics?" "Forget the color of eyes, weight, and fighting trim," smiled Maynard. "What's his course and velocity?" "Deceleration at about 4-Gs, course within ten thousand miles of us. Velocity less than a thousand miles per second." "How soon can we match her speed?" "Depends upon their willingness. Perhaps ten or twelve hours will do it," answered Stan. "Get your astrogator on it." "Executive to astrogator: Have you been listening?" "Astrogator. You bet, and Stan's wild. Make it fourteen hours." "Executive to pilot: Contact astrogator and follow course. Stan, will you try to contact them? I think it's your job, since they're at extreme range. Communications, you try with the standard sets, but I will not have any tinkering with the set-up in an effort to get another mile of range out of it." "This is Stan. I have them on a weakling signals, they're asking for you." "Tell 'em I'm here and we'll see 'em later. Check their course and prepare to match it. Then tell 'em to keep silence. That's an official order. Follow?" "Check." * * * * * Fourteen hours later, Thomas Kane came across the intervening space in a tender and shook Maynard by the hand. "Kane! How are you?" "Fine. And you?" "The same. But how did you find us?" "Did a little ferreting." "Did you know this is restricted space?" "Sure, but forget it. How's the experiment?" "Excellent." "Mind telling all?" "No. We set up a barrier on the _Asterite_, here, and have been testing and investigating it for months, as you know." "Have you licked the main bugaboo?" "We'll never lick that one. The drive, being a type of radiation, will not pass the barrier and so will not drive us. We can not discover a range of radiation that passes outward at all, though there is some minute leakage. The latter is absolutely insufficient to do any good." "Too bad." "It is. But the barrier is a good thing." "Oh, it'll serve in spite of its difficulties."