Security?"
"I, sir. Chauvenseer."
"Very well. Dr. Johnston and Chauvens ... sor? ... are in charge. Nowshut down that ruby hellmaker as fast as it can be done."
"But, captain," Dr. Johnston spoke, "we can't turn it off. We haven'tthe authority. We haven't the Security key. And the radiation won'tlet up for hours."
"I have just given you the authority. As for the radiation, that's ahazard you'll have to take. What's this about a Security key?" Thecaptain's voice was not gentle.
"Major Elbertson has the key. He has the only key. Without it, thestation cannot be removed from Earth control. Earth _is_ in control.They can turn it off, captain." Dr. Johnston's voice took on as firm atone of authority as that of the captain.
"Chau ... Chau ... You!" barked the captain. "Get that key!" He waiteduntil the Security officer had disappeared through the door, thenturned to the scientist.
* * * * *
"Dr. Johnston, Earth is not in control. I do not know why, and thereis no way of finding out. Hot Rod is wild, and _that_," he pointed atthe enlarging red spot that centered the computer display, "is whatyour ruby is doing to Earth.
"You will turn off the project, at gunpoint if necessary," hecontinued in a grim voice. "If you turn it off volitionally, you willbe treated for radiation. If you refuse, you will not live to betreated for anything. Do you understand? How many men do you need tohelp you ... and I do mean _you_ ... with the job?" he asked.
Dr. Johnston hesitated only fractionally, and Nails Andersenmentally put him down on the plus side of the personnel for theshortness of his com lag. Then he said, "The job will require only twomen for the fastest accomplishment. You realize, captain that you areprobably signing our death warrants--the two of us. But," he added,glancing only casually at the display on the console, "I canunderstand the need to sign that warrant, and I shall not quibble."
The intercom spoke. "This is Dr. Green, captain. There is no key onthe person of Major Elbertson. We have searched thoroughly, sir. Iunderstand the need is of an emergency nature. The key is not on hisperson. We have taken every possible measure to arouse him, as well,and have been unsuccessful."
Andersen flipped his switch. "Let me speak to the Hot Rod Securityofficer," he said briefly.
"Chauvenseer speaking, sir," the man's voice came on.
"Do you know what the key looks like?"
"Yes, sir. It looks somewhat like a common Yale key, sir. But I'venever seen another just like it."
"There is only the one?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where would he keep it, if not on his person?"
"I don't know, sir. We came straight to the morgue--the shield area,from the air lock. I don't believe he stopped off anywhere he couldhave put it."
The captain turned to the second Security officer. "Search Elbertson'sspacesuit," he said. Then to the intercom, "Search his hammock. Searchevery spot he went near. That key must be found in minutes. Commandeeras many men as can help in the search without getting in the way."
He paused a moment, then flipped another intercom key.
"Mr. Blackhawk," he said.
The intercom warmed at the far end. "Yes sir?" Mike's voice wasrelaxed.
"Is there any way to turn off Hot Rod without the Security key?"
"Why sure, captain." Mike's voice held a grin. "I could pull the powerswitch."
"Pull it. Fast. Hot Rod's out of control."
Mike's hand flashed to a master switch controlling the power that fedHot Rod, and blessing as he did it the fallacy of engineering that hadrequired external power to power the mighty energy collector.
In the big balloon now happily following the wheel at the end of itstether, the still-undamaged power-off fail-safe went into operation.The mirror surface behind each ruby rod rotated into its shieldingposition, dispersing the energy that the huge mirror directed towardsthe rods, back into space.
Hot Rod was secure.
* * * * *
Mike received only one further communication from the captain.
"Mr. Blackhawk," he was asked over the intercom, "is there any waythat you secure the Hot Rod power switch so that it cannot be turnedon without my personal authorization?"
"Sure, captain, I can--"
The captain interrupted. "Mr. Blackhawk, I should prefer that you nottell me or anyone else aboard the method you will use; and that youmake your method as difficult as possible to discover. This I shallleave," he added dryly, "to your rather ... fertile ... imagination.
"There is reason to believe that Project Hot Rod was turned on by asaboteur. Your method must be proof against him, and if he exists, hewill not be stupid." The captain switched off.
Mike turned to the control panel, and after a few minutes thoughtbusied himself for some time.
Then he headed for the bridge where Dr. Johnston, Chauvenseer, and thecaptain had dismissed the others and were utilizing every check thatDr. Johnston could dream up to assure themselves that Hot Rod wasactually turned off and would remain secure at least for the durationof the flare; and trying as well to find out just what form thesabotage had taken.
Without interrupting the others, Mike seated himself at the subsidiarypost at the computer's console on Bessie's right, and got her to briefhim while he examined the close-up display of Hot Rod.
After a few minutes he reached over and increased the magnification toits maximum, showing only a small portion of the balloon, then movedthe focus to display the control room entrance as well as part of theanchor tube and the cable between the two.
"I think I've found your saboteur, sir," he said.
The captain was at his side almost instantly. "Where is he?" he askedbriefly.
"Not he, sir. It. And I'm not sure just where--but look. Hot Rod'scable is taut. There's thrust on the balloon. That probably means apuncture and escaping nitrogen.
"I think," he said, "that the saboteur may have been a meteor thatpunctured the balloon, and the nitrogen escaping through the hole itmade is now producing enough thrust to keep that cable taut. Though,"he added thoughtfully, "I don't see why the servos couldn't maintainthe beam to Thule--though obviously, they couldn't."
"How dangerous is such a puncture?" asked the captain. "How seriouslywould Hot Rod be damaged? How soon must it be repaired?"
"The puncture itself shouldn't be too dangerous. Even if all thenitrogen's gone, the balloon's in a vacuum and won't collapse--andthat's about the only serious effect a puncture would have. Just amoment. We'll estimate its size by the thrust it's giving the ship,"he added, and turned to Bessie.
"Ask the Cow whether we're getting thrust on the ship; and if so, howmuch. Wait a minute," he added, "if you ask for thrust on the ship,she'll say there isn't any because Hot Rod would be pulling us, notpushing. And if you ask her for the thrust on Hot Rod, she hasn't gotany sensors out there.
"Hm-m-m. Ask her if we have added any off-orbit velocity; and if sohow much."
* * * * *
The computer displayed the answer almost as soon as she received thequestion.
"Well," said Mike, "that's not too large a hole. Ask her how ... let'ssee ... how many pounds of thrust that velocity represents. That waywe don't confuse her with whether it's push or pull."
The Cow displayed the answer, six hundred forty pounds of thrust.
"O.K.," said Mike. "Thanks." Then to the captain and the scientist andSecurity officer who were waiting beside him: "The puncture isobviously small enough to serve as a jet, rather than to have let thenitrogen out in one _whoosh_, since that would have given you far morethan six hundred forty pounds of thrust. Therefore, it will probablybe quite simple to patch the hole.
"Nitrogen is obviously escaping, but it wouldn't be worth a man's lifeto send him out into that flare-storm to patch it. We may even haveenough nitrogen aboard to replace what we lose.
"The best I can figure," he said, "is that the meteor must have hitthe orient
ation servos and thrown them off for a bit. We'll have towait till after the flare to make more than an educated guess, though.
"We shouldn't be too far off-orbit by the time the flare's over,either, even with that jet constant. It'll take quite a bit of work,but we should be able to get her back into position with not too manyhours of lost worktime.
"Except for Thule, I'd say we got off fairly light.
"Yes," he added grimly, "it looks like that's what