"
The jet boat was crowded. Alfie, the smallest, was sitting on Astro's
lap. For more than an hour they had circled above the copper satellite,
searching the surrounding skies in vain for some sign of the _Polaris_.
"Major," said Roger, who was hunched over the steering wheel of the
small space craft, "we're almost out of fuel. We'd better drop down on
the night side of Junior, the side away from the sun. At least there
we'd be out of the direct heat."
"Very well, Roger," said Connel. "In fact, we could keep shifting into
the night side every hour." Then he added quietly, thoughtfully, "But
we're out of fuel, you said?"
"Yes, sir," said Roger. "There's just enough to get down." Roger sent
the craft in a shallow dive. Suddenly the rockets cut out. The last of
the fuel was gone. Roger glided the jet boat to a smooth stop on the
night side of the planetoid.
"How much longer before the reactor units go up?" asked Shinny.
Connel turned, thinking he had heard something on the communicators,
then answered Shinny's question. "Only four hours," he said.
The crew of spacemen climbed out of the jet boat into the still
blackness of the night side of the planet.
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