уWellўф The boyтs eyes, dark-rimmed and bloodshot, went heavily after Sverdlovтs pointing finger. уElectrostatic discharge, that blue lightўф
уSee anything else?ф Sverdlov glanced uneasily at the megameters. He did not have a steady current going down the accelerators, it fluctuated continually by several per cent. But
was the needle for the negatron side creeping ever so slowly downward?
уNo. No, I canтt.ф
уShouldтa put a thermocouple in every ring. Might be a very weak deflection of ions, chewing at the end-most till all at once its focusing goes blooey and weтre in trouble.ф
уBut we tested every singleўAnd the starтs magnetic field is attenuating with every centimeter we advance.ф
уVibration, my cub-shaped friend. Itтd be easy to shake one of those jury-rigged magnetic coils just enough out of alignment toўHold it!ф
The terminal starboard coil glowed red Blue electric fire squirted forth and ran up the lattice. The negative megameter dropped ten points and Sverdlov felt a little surge as the ship wallowed to one side from an unbalanced thrust.
уEngine room stopping blast!ф he roared. His hand had already gone crashing onto the main lever.
The noise whined away to a mumble. He felt himself pitched off a cliff as high as eternity.
уWhatтs the trouble?ф barked Maclarenтs voice.
Sverdlov relieved himself of a few unrepeatable remarks. уSomethingтs gone sour out there. The last negatron accelerator began to glow and the current to drop. Didnтt you feel us yaw?ф
уOh, Lord, have mercy,ф groaned Ryerson. He looked physically sick. уNot again.ф
уAh, it neednтt be so bad,ф said Sverdlov. уMe, Iтm surprised the mucking thing held together this long. You canтt do much with baling wire and spit, you know.ф Inwardly, he struggled with a wish to beat somebodyтs face.
уI presume we are in a stable orbit,ф said Nakamura. уBut I would feel a good deal easier if the repair can be made soon. Do you want any help?ф
уNo. Dave and I can handle it. Stand by to give us a test blast.ф
Sverdlov and Ryerson got into their spacesuits. уI swear this smells fouler every day,ф said the Krasnan. уI didnтt believe I could be such a filth generator.ф He slapped down his helmet and added into the radio: уSo much for man the glorious starconqueror.ф
уNo,ф said Ryerson.
уWhat?ф
уThe stinks are only the body. That isn~ important. What counts is the soul inside.ф
Sverdlov cocked his bullet head and stared at the other armored shape. уDo you actually believe that guff?ф
уIтm sorry, I didnтt mean to preach orўф
уNever mind. I donтt feel like arguing either.ф Sverdlov laughed roughly. уIтll give you just one thing to mull over, though. If the bodyтs such a valueless piece of pork, and weтll all meet each other in the sweet bye and bye, and so on, whyтre you busting every gut you own to get back to your wife?ф
He heard an outraged breath in his earphones. For a moment he felt he had failed somehow. There was no room here for quarrels. Ah, shaft it, he told himself. If an Earthling donтt like to listen to a colonial, he can jing-bangle well stay out of space.
They gathered tools and instruments in a silence that smoldered. When they left the air lock, they had the usual trouble in seeing. Then their pupils expanded and their minds switched over to the alien gestalt. A raw blaze leaped forth and struck them.
Feeling his way aft along the lattice, Sverdlov sensed his anger bleed away. The boy was rightўit did no good to curse dead matter. Save your rage for those who needed it, tyrants and knaves and their sycophants. And you might even wonder
ўit was horrible to thinkўif they were worth it either. He stood with ten thousand bitter suns around him; but none was Sol or Tau Ceti. 0 Polaris, deathтs lodestar, are we as little as all that?
He reached the end of the framework, clipped his life line on, and squirted a light-diffusing fog at the ring. Not too close, he didnтt want it to interfere with his ion stream, but it gave him three-dimensional illumination. He let his body float out behind while he pulled himself squinting-close to the accelerator.
уHm-m-m, yes, itтs been pitted,ф he said. уNaturally it would be the negatron side which went wrong. Protons do a lot less harm, striking terrene matter. Hand me that counter, will you?ф
Ryerson, wordless and faceless, gave him the instrument. Sverdlov checked for radioactivity. уNot enough to matter,ф he decided. ╬We wonтt have to replace this ring, we stopped the process in time. By readjusting the magnetic coils we can compensate for the change in the electric focusing field caused by its gnawed-up shape. I hope.ф
Ryerson said nothing. Good grief, thought Sverdlov, did I offend him that much? Hitherto they had talked a little when working outside, not real conversation but a trivial remark now and then, a grunt for response . . . just enough to drown out the hissing of the stars.
уHello, pilot. Give me a microamp. One second duration.ф
Sverdlov moved out of the way. Even a millionth of an ampere blast should be avoided, if it was an anti-proton current.
Electric sparks crawled like ivy over the bones of the accelerator. Sverdlov, studying the instruments he had planted along the ion path, nodded. уWhatтs the potentiometer say, Dave?ф he asked. уIf itтs saying anything fit to print, I mean.ф
уStandard,ф snapped Ryerson.
Maybe I should apologize, thought Sverdlov. And then, in a geyser: Judas, no! If heтs so thin-skinned as all that, he can rot before I do.
The stars swarmed just out of reach. Sometimes changes in the eyeball made them seem to move. Like flies. A million burning flies. Sverdlov swatted, unthinkingly, and snarled to himself.
After a while it occurred to him that Ryersonтs nerves must also be rubbed pretty thin. You shouldnтt expect the kid to act absolutely sensibly. I lost my own head at the very start of this affair, thought Sverdlov. The memory thickened his temples with blood. He began unbolting the Number One magnetic coil as if it were an enemy he must destroy as savagely as possible.
уO.K., gimme another microamp one-second test.ф
уTry shifting Number Two a few centimeters forward,ф said Ryerson.
уYou crazy?ф snorted Sverdlov. Yes, I suppose weтre all a bit crazy by now. уLook, if the deflected stream strikes here, youтll want to bend it down like so andўф
уNever mind.ф Ryerson could not be seen to move, in the bulk of his armor, but Sverdlov imagined him turning away
with a contemptuous shrug. It took several minutes of tinkering for the Krasnan to realize that the Earthling had visualized the interplay of forces correctly.
He swallowed. уYou were right,ф he emitted.
уWell, letтs get it reassembled,ф said Ryerson coldly.
Very good, Earth snob, sir. Sverdlov attacked the coils for several more minutes. уTest blast.ф Not quite. Try another setting. уTest blast. Repeat.ф That seemed to be it. уGive me a milliamp this time . . . A full amp . . . hm-m-m.ф The current had flowed too short a time to heat the ring, but needles wavered wildly.
уWeтre still getting some deflection,ф said Sverdlov. уMatter of velocity distribution. A certain small percentage of the particles have abnormal velocities andўф He realized he was crouched under Ryersonтs hidden eyes babbling the obvious. уIтll try sliding this one a wee bit more aside. Gimme that vernier wrenchўSo. One amp test blast, please.ф
There was no further response from the instruments. Ryerson let out a whistling sigh. уWe seem to have done it,ф he said.
We? thought Sverdlov. Well, you handed me a few tools!
Aloud: уWe wonтt know for sure till full thrust is applied.ф
