"A minute and forty seconds from spot to conjunction," mused McBride. "If, little playmate, we can pet power again after one more minute and thirty seconds-odd, we'll feel more or less sure that it is Telfu and not us. Larry!" he yelled. "Any sign of upswing?" "Yup," said Larry. "Sure thing!" "Set the super drive up on test power with automatics to turn it on as soon as the overload point is passed," said McBride. "We won't blow any fuses with test power." * * * * * Hammond hit the test buttons and then settled down to wait. Then the drive cut in again, and they all slid down in their chairs. McBride grinned. "They must not like us." "Something must not," laughed Hammond shakily. "Telfu?" asked Timkins entering with the last sigma curve. "What does it say?" "We passed through a negative peak. We hit a new low in efficiency at conjunction with Telfu." "How much?" "Less than a half percent." "Jeepers. That is a new low in gravitics. Can we think our way out of this one?" "Why?" "As much as I dislike seeing Drake, I'd not force her to live on an alien planet. I'd feel better at marooning her for a couple of years if I knew we could go in and get her." McBride laughed. "Got to have the last laugh, hey?" "Meaning?" "Marooning her wouldn't be half so much fun if it is impossible to get her out. Marooning her when we have the means to get her out puts it strictly in our own lap. Right?" "I suppose so. We could laugh at her honestly then." "She's strictly a stinker," agreed McBride. "I get that cod-liver-oil smell now. All that soft soap and palaver she was handing out about our being the boys with the brains. We were the guys who would be responsible for lifting a struggling civilization up from the primordial slime by our brain and our genius. Baloney!" "I get it," growled Hammond. "She's stuck. God knows how she landed--probably emergency and shot her load of battery juice. Anyway, she could land under emergency battery, but taking off is a megawatt of another color, battery-wise. They aren't equipped to make a take-off. Idea being the old one--don't start if you can't stop." "She's a bright girl in her own stinking way," said McBride. "She's been around this gang long enough to know that if a way is possible, we'll think of it. Oh, sure, that's a brag but we've done pretty well so far. So inveigle us into the same trap she's in and then ride out with us. She'd roast in the brimstone of the nether regions before she'd wail for help honestly. But if we get stuck with her she's got two outs. One, we may be able to think our way out. Two, at least we are Terrans like she is." "Meaning?" asked Hammond darkly. "Frankly, Sandra Drake is an awful lot of woman, and she knows it. She'd make a plaster saint turn to whistle at her if she turned on the old charm. And with no competition, we'd be fighting one another for the privilege of polishing her shoes." "Fine future." "No thanks."