The others were bored by the power plant of the ship. The engineer, however, could not repress a thrill at once more standing surrounded by the gauges, valves, and pumps with which he had formerly lived. He strode about, examining and comprehending such appliances as seemed new since his last service in space. "How about it?" demanded Brecken. "Can you handle it?" "Sure," answered Phillips confidently. "Mostly automatic anyway." "Then we can get movin' whenever we want?" "I suppose so. The tanks are nearly full; let's find those space torpedoes the old man mentioned." "Maybe it won't hurt, at that," grumbled Brecken. * * * * * He led the way out, but paused indecisively. Phillips stepped past him and considered the cross passages near the midpoint of the corridor. Those in the plane of the control room deck probably led to port and starboard airlocks, he reasoned, so the others might lead to the torpedo turrets. He went to the vertical well and started up the ladder, hearing the others follow. At the top, he was confronted by a hatch with a red danger sign. Glancing about, he located the gauges that reported the air pressure beyond. Normal. "Make a little room," he said, looking down to Brecken. The big, ruddy face retreated a few rungs. Phillips could hear the others scrambling further down. He got his head out of the way before pulling the switch that opened the hatch. With a subdued humming of electric motors, the massively constructed door swung down. One after another, they pulled themselves up into the compartment. "This must be where they set controls for launching," guessed Phillips, leaning back against a rack of emergency spacesuits. "That intercom screen on the bulkhead is probably plugged in to the control room. Looks as if the torpedoes themselves are stored under that hatch at the after end." "How do they kick them off?" asked Brecken. "Those conveyor belts run them into tubes in the forward bulkhead. A charge of compressed air blows them out, and then the rockets are started and controlled by radio." "You mean we have to point at a target to fire?" "Oh, no. Once the rockets are going, the torpedo can be maneuvered and aimed anywhere by remote control." "I've seen enough," announced Truesdale. "I'm hungry." At that, they all decided to return to the main deck. Phillips carefully closed the airtight hatch as they left, then followed the others in search of the galley. Later, after a very unsatisfactory meal of packaged concentrates, they loitered sullenly in the control room once more while Donna studied the controls. Phillips had finally decided that he could wear the third spacesuit on the rack if he had to. He was idly examining the tools supplied with it when his thoughts were interrupted. Young Truesdale had been monkeying with a range indicator for some time, but now his sharp outcry drew all eyes to him.