"And we're drifting in to join them," Kent said. "Some prospect!" "Then there's really no chance for us?" asked Liggett keenly. Captain Crain thought. "As I see it, very little," he admitted. "If our auxiliary radio can reach some nearby ship before the _Pallas_ enters the dead-area, we'll have a chance. But it seems a remote one." He addressed himself to the men: "I have laid the situation frankly before you because I consider you entitled to the truth. You must remember, however, that while there is life there is hope. "There will be no change in ship routine, and the customary watches will be kept. Half-rations of food and water will be the rule from now on, though. That is all." As the men moved silently off, the captain looked after them with something of pride. "They're taking it like men," he told Kent and Liggett. "It's a pity there's no way out for them and us." "If the _Pallas_ does enter the dead-area and join the wreck-pack," Liggett said, "how long will we be able to live?" "Probably for some months on our present condensed air and food supplies," Crain answered. "I would prefer, myself, a quicker end." "So would I," said Kent. "Well, there's nothing left but to pray for some kind of ship to cross our path in the next day or two." * * * * * Kent's prayers were not answered in the next ship-day, nor in the next. For, though one of the _Pallas'_ radio-operators was constantly at the instruments under Captain Crain's orders, the weak calls of the auxiliary set raised no response. Had they been on the Venus or Mars run, Kent told himself, there would be some chance, but out here in the vast spaces, between the outer planets, ships were fewer and farther between. The big, cigar-shaped freighter drifted helplessly on in a broad curve toward the dreaded area, the green light-speck of Neptune swinging to their left. On the third ship-day Kent and Captain Crain stood in the pilot-house behind Liggett, who sat at the now useless rocket-tube controls. Their eyes were on the big glass screen of the gravograph. The black dot on it that represented their ship was crawling steadily toward the bright red circle that stood for the dead-area.... They watched silently until the dot had crawled over the circle's red line, heading toward its center. "Well, we're in at last," Kent commented. "There seems to be no change in anything, either." Crain pointed to the instrument-panel. "Look at the gravitometers." Kent did. "All dead! No gravitational pull from any direction--no, that one shows a slight attraction from ahead!" "Then gravitational attraction of some sort does exist in the dead-area after all!" Liggett exclaimed. "You don't understand," said Crain. "That attraction from ahead is the pull of the wreck-pack at the dead-area's center." "And it's pulling the _Pallas_ toward it?" Kent exclaimed. Crain nodded. "We'll probably reach the wreck-pack in two more ship-days."