Alan J. Ramm

“ Skip and Bull looked guiltily at one another. Stevens went on. "Your bantering may have been amusing to the crew for a few days out of Terra. But now they're sensitive about it, and your panning the ship is making the men nervous. Both of you know a nervous crew is nothing to have on a ship operating within the atmosphere of the sun. Even a subconscious suspicion of the worth of the Cerebus III might cause some technician to make a mistake or hesitate long enough to send everyone to his death. ”

“ His voice held a tempered edge that could have sliced through the million degree temperature of the corona.
Both men jerked to their screens. Off to the side they could see the Regis low in the chromosphere, hanging over the umbra of a small sunspot about ten thousand miles away.
Stevens' voice was bitter. "First you destroy the crew's morale. Now you're negligent in your assigned duty. That should be enough to wash you both out of the Inner Fleet. You're both cosmic debris the Service can do without. Stay out here in the Control Room where I can keep my eye on you. ”

“ This Captain Stevens corrected while speaking to the men. "Clean up the mess in here. Get the injured to the sick bay; and take care of the dead. We're in the same difficulty as the Regis. Our anti-gray and anti-heat units are working but the indicators show them losing power slowly. We must free those tubes or sooner or later we'll end up in the sun. Let's get down to the outer lock room and see what we can do."
Bull and Skip followed the rest through the big ship. When they got to the lock room, Malcolm, his face white with pain from some injury, was struggling into a solar suit. ”

“ A radiation leak down there will kill them all."
Then he called the engine room. "Open up easy."
The deck of the control room began to throb with the power of the huge ionized particle engines. On the screen the traction line began to straighten between the two ships. Its still slack loop twisted like a dying snake between the forces that played over it. Then it tautened.
"It's moving toward us," Skip said aloud. No one answered him. Their eyes were too tightly fixed to the screens.
Suddenly the Cerebus III began to whip right and left. ”

“ At last the line struck and held the Regis amidships.
A sigh oozed from every man in the control room. Stevens looked at his watch. "Two hours gone. Now for the tough part."
He called down to the outer lock room through the intership voice tubes. "We've made contact. Have the communicator tube ready to swing out of the lock when I give notice. We are going to start hauling the Regis in toward us now. Be sure that you batten all contact points tight. The men on the Regis haven't any suits to withstand the radiations of the sun. ”

“ Objects at both ends are flung apart."
"So the Regis was flung out of that spot the same as we were," Bull said in amazement.
"That's right," Captain Stevens agreed. "And she was able to hang on in her new position until another rescue ship reached her. She's safe. Alistar of Cygnus is O.K., too."
"So the Federation and the System are happy," Skip added. "Everything seems to have worked out but us. And we're just plain out."
Captain Stevens looked at them. "Some men," he said, "are like a good ship—like the Cerebus III for instance. ”

“ Before any of the new arrivals could say a word, Malcolm was in the lock and on his way outside.
Suddenly one of the lock tenders exclaimed. "My God, he took a suit with a discharged anti-heat unit filler. If his refrigerant cuts off while he's out there—"
Bull grabbed another suit from its peg and began to draw it on. Captain Stevens grabbed his arm and shouted.
"Hold it, Ensign, you're under arrest. We'll send—"
"There's a man out there," interrupted Bull. "You said this was do or die, didn't you? Let me go."
Stevens tightened his grip. "Listen you big fool—"
Bull shoved hard. ”

“ With all the other crazy things that have been happening lately to throw suspicion our way, our system stands in danger of being ejected from the Federation unless we can clear ourselves. You know what that would mean to our trade activities? ”

“ Malcolm observed. "The whirling effect of the gases sets up a low pressure that reduces the temperature to about 7000 degrees instead of the 11,000 outside the spot where we are."
"We'll have to close and hook on as soon as possible," Stevens directed. "Break out the strongest line we have. When we get within a mile, shoot her out until you contact." ”