Finally, when Lynne found herself able to move objects about in the control cabin, abetted by Rolf’s mind-power, she said, “Well, what do you think?” Rolf nodded and directed a thought at her. _It’s got to be after our next rest period_, VINRAL. _We can’t just sit here forever._ * * * * * Upstairs, in the cabin, they worked out final plans with Suzuki. He and Goldberg and half the crew were to stay put, while MacDougald and the rest of the E.I.A. survivors were to move to the other expeditionary ship. “That way,” Rolf suggested, “your chances of getting one ship back will be doubled in case something goes wrong.” “Got you,” said Suzuki matter-of-factly. “Here, have some of the panktosteak. Cook’s outdone himself on the sauce.” The atmosphere as they ate what might be their their final meal together was almost gay. After the long period of inactive confinement, the E.I.A. men were welcoming the prospect of a change of condition--even if the change were death. Reading their thoughts, Lynne felt proud to be a human. She had never quite believed in heroes before--they had seemed buried so far back in a pre-scientific human past--yet here she was, with a whole group of them. Rolf’s thought reached her. _You’re not doing so badly yourself_, VINRAL--and she turned her face toward the wall as her cheeks grew hot. To her surprise, she slept, and dreamt she was back on Earth, working at the brain-station with her teammates. And then Rolf was awakening her and, after a silent handshake with Suzuki, she was clambering into a heavy space-suit once more. Then, again, she and Rolf were treading on frozen atmosphere, the two of them alone this time, moving slowly along the base of the jagged revetment until they were a good kilometer away from the other ships. Again Lynne’s nose itched unbearably, and this time the itching seemed to be spreading, to include other parts of her body. She had to force herself to ignore it completely. _Good girl!_ Rolf approved her effort. _Here, I think we’ve gone far enough. Here goes...._ They stood clear of the gaunt rock wall, against the chance of falling fragments, and Lynne looked at the twin tall spires of the E.I.A. ships and at the shorter, stubbier vessel, a half-kilometer beyond them. Then they put their minds as one on the Sodium generator, lying beneath the surface of the plain amid the flattened E.I.A. sheds. They concentrated with all of their newly-awakened telekinetic power on the switch a few centimeters to the left of the main control panel. And they thought fiercely. Lynne could feel a gathering storm of alien irritation. Thoughts of cathedrals were replaced by hideous concepts of suns exploding into novae, of planets burning to ash.