He returned to his seat at the panel and carefully kept tab on the readings, covering first one dial and then another. Some minutes later the refrigerator-gauge needle unexpectedly soared above the subzero mark. Almost at the same moment, Steve felt encroaching heat pressing in on him from all sides. The sweat popped out. The heat filled his nostrils, burned his lungs. “The refrigerator has broken down!” Steve gasped. His gaze shifted to Bart, who was rubbing a moist hand over his crimsoning face. Bart’s fingers jerked instinctively from the levers that had quickly grown too hot to handle. In the motion, Bart’s arm carelessly brushed against one of the side jet levers. The ship veered on its gyroscopic balance and plunged out of control. Steve bumped against the far corner of the compartment, feeling bruises all over him, but he was not really hurt, although it seemed as though he were breathing fire. Bart’s head had struck the fire drill, a big welding machine for repairing breaks in the hull, stupefying him. Steve shook his head to clear it and scrambled to his seat, righting the ship again and putting it on automatic pilot. Then he got up and hurried down the corridor to the garb room. His magnetic shoes clacked along the metal floor. Hurriedly, Steve donned space suit, oxygen tank, and helmet. The insulated gear momentarily cut out the oppressive heat. But in another few minutes he and Bart would be sizzling like steaks on a griddle, for even the insulation of their suits could not withstand raw heat for long. The only way out, as Steve saw it, was to call on Jim Dennis. Steve carried another set of gear down the corridor and shook Bart. “Put this on, Bart,” he said. “It’ll protect you from the heat.” Bart was gasping in the hot air of the compartment, his face scarlet and shining, but he took the gear. Next, Steve went outside onto the skin of the _Condon Comet_. The vault of starlight closed in all about him, and the deep web of midnight space seemed to extend endlessly. There was the sweeping veil of the Milky Way galaxy and here closer the pulsing, blinding sphere of Sol. There was another startling light, a driving streak of firestreams and silvery glow—the _Dennis Meteor_. Jim and his co-pilot, Pete Rogers, could hardly miss seeing them. Quickly the _Dennis Meteor_ drew abreast of the _Condon Comet_, but then it swept on past overhead! Steve felt bitterness and disappointment well up in him. He had always thought Jim to be a “right guy.” Could it be that the winning of the race was more important to him than two persons’ lives? The only hope now was a hasty repair of the refrigerator unit. Steve hustled back into the ship and made his way to the rear where the cooling machinery was located. He found Bart working there, his helmet off. Steve removed his own helmet, for apparently Bart had repaired the trouble. The customary blandness of the atmosphere had been restored. “What happened to it?” Steve asked.