* * * * * McVane was supervising repairs on his machines. He had moaned about feeling sick, but Lodar had refused to listen to his pleas. For one thing, they had drifted two days now and the _Vulcan_ had inevitably expended its momentum against the solar pull. It had begun the long fall sunward. And, beside the threat of being broiled, there was the deadly danger of space rays. They would burn up a man just as surely, even though in a different way. So haste was imperative. It might take a week to repair the main converters. The insulation was badly charred on the stator coils. Several were burned out completely. So McVane was put to work. The rattle of chain hoists and hiss of arc welder echoed hollowly through the drifting ship. Even so, had it not been for the comforting hum of the auxiliary generator the silence would have been maddening. Ray had avoided seeing the girl since the death of the Mutes. Probably she blamed him as much as the others for their murder, lumping him in a general category of black infamy. And how could he prove to her that he wasn't like Lodar, Campora, and the rest? Unless she could really sense thoughts, as she hinted. It seemed preposterous, yet she might have learned some such thing from the Mutes. She might even know what Lodar was thinking! Ray grinned at that. Even now the captain was probably fuming like an angry bull. He was eating a huge meal when Ray entered his cabin to give him a report. He continued to ladle vast quantities of hash while the young navigator outlined the progress of repairs. Finally he threw down his spoon and wiped his mouth. "Those men are deliberately stalling on the job!" he snarled. Ray didn't deny it. They'd both known it all along. "If you'd change your mind about heading for Earth--" Ray stopped. The dishes jumped as Lodar banged the table. "Give in to a bunch of lousy space scum?" Lodar glared. "I know what they're afraid of. Every one of them is a jailbird! But, by Jupiter, I'm running this ship!" "No one is running the ship right now," Ray said coldly. "The _Vulcan_ is falling faster every minute. Our distance from the sun--" "I'll talk to the swabs!" Lodar's jaw bulged as he pushed away his chair. "I'll beat out their brains if I have to!" He jerked open the door, then stared out. "What do you want?" Campora was standing in the corridor. At Lodar's expression he fell back a pace, then held his ground. "The men asked me to represent them--" "Now, by hell!" Lodar roared. "I've had enough! Are you a First Mate or a sniveling messenger boy for the crew? Get out of my way!" "I want to warn you--" "Stand aside." Lodar shoved the mate back. "Better listen to him." Ray's voice was harsh. Lodar deserved all he got, but there was no sense in stirring the _Vulcan_ to a charnal house of mob violence. He knew only too well the temper of the crew after two days of wracking tension.