“We got a good rest,” Garry said. “I guess that’s because of the zero gravity.” Patch looked gloomily out of the front port of the flier. “We’re still no better off than we were before, though, Garry, but, I think we have stopped moving.” Garry shook his head. “It just seems like we’re not moving because the stars and everything else around us are so still. We’re moving all right—and fast. This ship may still be moving after we’re dead, even if we could live for a hundred years, because there’s nothing ever to slow us down out here; that is, unless we happened to move into the gravity field of some planet, which would pull us down.” “I knew we should have turned ourselves in when we had the chance,” Patch said mournfully. “If we had, we wouldn’t be in this fix now.” Garry agreed. “It’s all my fault for trying to hold out so long.” “Well, too late now to do anything,” Patch said. “I don’t think we should give up hope,” Garry said. “They might still send out a ship to try to pick up this one. They know it’s lost, but of course they don’t know there’s anybody in it, and they may not know where to look for it.” He investigated the sloping wall between him and the front window. The middle of it was shaped something like an old-fashioned roll-top desk, closed up. “Hmm,” Garry thought to himself. “This ship has been run by remote control until now, but why shouldn’t it have controls of its own? If it does have them, they should be right here in front of me.” Garry’s hopes soared again as he ran his hands over the light-green plastic slope in front of him. “A button,” he whispered. “There must be a button or something that opens this thing up.” “Hey, what’re you mumbling about?” Patch asked. Garry was too concerned with what he was doing to answer his friend. Suddenly, he found something on the left side of the instrument. It was a button. He pressed it. Two covers began swinging open in front of him, as stage curtains would do, revealing a bank of dials and levers. “Patch!” Garry shouted. “Look what!” Patch came clicking over in his magnetic shoes. “Hey, they’re instruments for running this crate! Why didn’t we think of looking for them before?” he cried. “Probably because we don’t know how to operate them,” Garry replied. There was a half-circle steering wheel that pulled out, and the boys were sure what this was for. “Garry,” Patch said happily, “the steering wheel—that may be all that we’ll need! Since the ship is moving under its own power, all we have to do is turn her around and head back for the space station. We can keep circling it until one of the ships from the station intercepts us!” Garry tried the wheel. It was locked tight. “It’s not that easy, Patch,” he said. “First we’ve got to find how to unlock the wheel.” “That ought not to be hard,” Patch replied. “A button or switch....”