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"Stand easy," Rip told his men. "Nothing to do now but wait. The Scorpius will be back." He set an example by leaning against the thorium crystal in which the cave was located. It was a natural but meaningless gesture. With no gravity pulling at them they could remain standing indefinitely, sleeping upright. Rip closed his eyes and relaxed.
But on the dark side, Rip measured temperatures close to absolute zero. When the Scorpius returned he arranged with Commander O’Brine for the Planeteers to take turns going to the cruiser for showers and decent meals. The asteroid approached the orbit of Venus, but the bright planet was some distance away, at its greatest elongation to the east of the sun.
"How is the Connie I got?" "Unconscious, sir," Santos replied. "He must be bleeding badly, but we can't tell. The one you landed on is all right now, but he may have a broken rib or two." Because his voice was weak, Rip had to turn up the volume on his communicator to tell the Planeteers about the Scorpius. They were silent when he finished. Then Dowst spoke up. "Looks like they have us, sir.
Sixty minutes later, clean, fed, and contented, the Planeteers were again on the thorium planet while the Scorpius, riding the same orbit, stood by a few miles out in space. The asteroid and the great cruiser arched high above the belt of tiny worlds in the orbit Rip had set, traveling together toward distant Mars.
He didn’t want the others to hear what he had to say. His voice came like a roar from, the bottom of a well. "Lieutenant, do you suppose there’s any chance the blast might break up the asteroid? Maybe split it in two?" The same thought had occurred to Rip on the Scorpius.
Rip plugged it into his belt. Now his voice would be heard on the Scorpius. "Calling Scorpius! Calling Scorpius! Foster reporting. We are under attack. Repeat, we are under attack. Over to you." The answer rang in his helmet. "Scorpius to Foster. Hold ’em, Planeteers. We’re on our way!" "Here comes the Connie," Koa yelled. Rip braced.
Rip listened, spellbound. "Foster, R.I.P., Lieutenant, SOS. Serial seven-nine-four-three. Assigned SOS Four. Change orders, effective this date-time. Cancel earth-leave. Subject officer will report to commander, SCN Scorpius with detachment of nine men. Senior non-commissioned officer and second in command, Koa, A.P., Sergeant-major, SOS. Serial two-nine-four-one.
At my nativity my ascendant was the watery sign of Scorpius; I was born in the planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that leaden planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and galliardize of company; yet in one dream I can compose a whole comedy, behold the action, and apprehend the jests, and laugh myself awake at the conceits thereof.
That would at least have kept our dosage down enough for safety." "No one else thought of it, either, sir," Koa reminded. "It was my job to think of it, and I didn’t. So I’ve put us in a time squeeze. If the Scorpius gets back soon, we can get the shielding before our radiation dosage has built up very high. If the ship doesn’t come back, the dosage will mount." He looked at them grimly.
The supply clerk inspected the lists, shuffled papers, and found the answer. "The following," he read, "are to be supplied from the Scorpius complement. One landing boat, large, model twenty-eight. Eight each, oxygen cutting unit gas bottles. Four each, chemical cutting unit fuel tanks." "That’s that," Rip said, relieved.
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