Channing tried to interrupt, but Burbank removed his nose from the telephone long enough to snarl, "Can't you see I'm busy? Have you no manners or respect?" Channing, fuming inside, swore inwardly. He sat down with a show of being calm and folded his hands over his abdomen like the famed statue of Buddha. Arden looked at him, and for all of the trouble they were in, she couldn't help giggling. Channing, tall, lanky, and yet strong, looked as little as possible like the popular, pudgy figure of the Sitting Buddha. A minute passed. Burbank hung up the phone. "Where does Venus Equilateral get its air from?" snapped Burbank. "That's what I want--" "Answer me, please. I'm worried." "So am I. Something--" "Tell me first, from what source does Venus Equilateral get its fresh air?" "From the air plant. And that is--" "There must be more than one," said Burbank thoughtfully. "There's only one." "There _must_ be more than one. We couldn't live if there weren't," said the Director. "Wishing won't make it so. There is only one." "I tell you, there must be another. Why, I went into the one up at the axis yesterday and found that instead of a bunch of machinery, running smoothly, purifying air, and sending it out to the various parts of the station, all there was was a veritable jungle of weeds. Those weeds, Mr. Channing, looked as though they must have been put in there years ago. Now, where did the air-purifying machinery go?" Channing listened to the latter half of Burbank's speech with his chin at half-mast. He looked as though a feather would knock him clear across the office. "I had some workmen clear the weeds out. I intend to replace the air machinery as soon as I can get some new material sent from Terra." Channing managed to blink. It was an effort. "You had workmen toss the weeds out--" he repeated dully. "The weeds--" There was silence for a minute. Burbank studied the man in the chair as though Channing were a piece of statuary. Channing was just as motionless. "Channing, man, what ails you--" began Burbank. The sound of Burbank's' voice aroused Channing from his shocked condition. Channing leaped to his feet. He landed on his heels, spun, and snapped at Arden: "Get on the -type. Have 'em slap as many oxy-drums on the fastest ship they've got! Get 'em here at full throttle. Tell 'em to load up the pilot and crew with gravanol and not to spare the horsepower! Scram!" Arden gasped. She fled from the office. "Burbank, what did you think an air plant was?" snapped Channing. "Why, isn't it some sort of purifying machinery?" asked the wondering Director.