"Nothing doing!" Again he felt an impulse to touch her, to hold her. He wondered if it sprang from his own mind or hers--or was he just nuts? But her smile, at least, sent a flood of warm relief coursing through him as he left. He turned to his own cabin. As navigator, there was nothing at present for him to do. It might be best for him to get some rest while he could. He was afraid to sleep, but long training had taught him how to cat-nap. He relaxed, keeping an ear trained for trouble. The repair work must go on or the _Vulcan_ was lost, for the sun was perilously close. Ray had been afraid to tell the crew just how close, because the single escape ship would hold only a fraction of them. He must have fallen asleep, because he was suddenly aware that the sound of work had ceased. Instead he could hear the quavering notes of McVane's voice, singing lugubriously. Plainly he was sad. "_I'd give a thousand years in hell in pain To see my Nelly once again!_" And drunk! Ray jerked on his tunic and hurried out. In the corridor he paused at Lodar's cabin and tried the door. It was locked. So, Lodar had gone to bed, contemptuously certain that he'd licked the crew into shape. Which meant that Campora should be in charge. But there was an air of unease, of impending disaster, in the driveless ship. Perhaps it was a result of McVane's doleful song, but Ray found himself suddenly tense. The ship was too quiet. No sound came from below as he went to the well. Even McVane had quit his lament. Momentarily Ray was tempted to see if Ellenor was all right. He decided against it, hurried along the corridor to the crew's quarters, aft. As soon as he stepped inside the mess room, suspicion froze him. At his step the huddle of men had suddenly broken. The faces which turned his way all wore the same tense look. It was time for the payoff! * * * * * There would be no more talk. Their faces told him that. Jenkins peered at Ray through his glasses. Without preamble, he demanded, "Are you in with us or Lodar?" It was a ridiculous question. All of Ray's training had conditioned him to meet such emergency in only one way. Right or wrong, there was only one answer. He leaped back through the door and slammed it, then swung the emergency latch and spun the sealing wheel. It would hold them for a while--till they burned it down. He dashed for the central well, slid down the pole in a mad spiral, and jumped for the engine room. McVane was alone at his desk, a shrunken figure in the glaring lights, his head slumped down on his chest. Ray kicked the chair from under him and hauled him erect. "Get to the control room!" he panted. McVane's lean hand closed on his bottle, then his feet were dragging as Ray hauled him to the well. His head wobbled as he took up the song again. "_She's gone and never will I see My sweetheart, dear to me._"