"Joe has declared a drought for the duration," said Franks with a laugh. "He thinks we can't think on Scotch." "We can't. Have you seen the boys?" "Murdoch's crew? Sure, they're circling at about five miles, running around in the plane of the ecliptic. Keep running on the colure and the chances are that you won't even see 'em. But, Don, they can hear us!" "How about the landing stage at the South end?" "There are two of them running around the Station at different heights from South to North. The third is circling in a four-mile circle on a plane five miles South of the Station. We've picked up a few HE shells, and I guess that, if you try to make a landing there, you'll be shot to bits. That devil is using the meteor detector for a gun pointer." "Walt, remember the range finder?" "Y'mean the one we used to find the _Empress_?" "Uh-huh. Rig it without the adjustable mirror. Get me? D'you know what I want to do?" "Yop. All we have to do is to clear away some of the saw grass again. Not too much, though, because it hasn't been too long since we cut it before. I get you all right." "Fine. How soon?" "I'm in the beam control dome North. I've got a portable mike, and I walk over to the adjustable mirror and begin to tinker with the moving screws. _Ouch!_ I've skun me a knuckle. Now look, Don, I'm going inside and crack the passage end. I've broadcast throughout the Station that this is to be cracked, and the men are swarming all over the axis of the Station doing just that. Come a-running!" * * * * * Channing circled the little ship high to the North and came down toward the axis of the Station. He accelerated fiercely for a portion of the time, and then made a slam-bang turnabout that caused some of the plates to complain. A pilot light on the instrument panel gleamed, indicating that some of the plates were strained and that the ship was leaking air. Another light lit, indicating that the automatic pressure control was functioning, and that the pressure was maintained, though it might not be too long. Then in deceleration, Channing fought the ship on to a die-straight line with the open door at the North end. He fixed the long, long passageway in the center of his sights, and prayed. The ship hit the opening squarely, and only then did their terrific speed become apparent. Past bulkhead after bulkhead they drove, and a thin scream came to their ears as the atmosphere down in the bowels of the Station was compressed by the tiny ship's passage. Doors slammed behind the ship as it passed, and air locks were opened, permitting the Station's center to fill to its normal pressure once more. Then the rocketing ship slowed. Channing saw a flash of green and knew that the Martial saw grass was halfway down the three-mile length of the Station. He zipped past storeroom and rooms filled with machinery, and then the ship scraped lightly against one of the bulkheads.