was a slow job, for it had to be done conscientiously. He was like a blind man, feeling in the dark with a thin, flexible wand. If what he sought was beyond the reach of his wand, he would have to think of something else. But he would deal with that problem when he came to it.
He had been searching for about ten minutes when he became careless. It required both hands to operate the probe, especially when it neared the limit of its extension. He was pushing with all his strength, leaning over the edge of the ski, when he slipped and fell headlong into the dust.
Pat was conscious of the changed atmosphere as soon as he emerged from the air lock. The reading from The Orange and the Apple had finished some time ago, and a heated argument was now in progress. It stopped when he walked into the cabin, and there was an embarrassing silence while he surveyed the scene. Some of the passengers looked at him out of the corners of their eyes, while the others pretended he wasn't there.
"Well, Commodore," he said, "what's the trouble?"
"There's a feeling," Hansteen answered, "that we're not doing all we could to get out. I've explained that we have no alternative but to wait until someone finds us - but not everybody agrees."
It was bound to come sooner or later, thought Pat. As time ran out, and there was no sign of rescue, nerves would begin to snap, tempers get frayed. There would be calls for action-any action. It was against human nature to sit still and do nothing in the face of death.
"We've been through this over and over again," he said wearily. "We're at least ten meters down, and even if we opened the air lock, no one could get up to the surface against the resistance of the dust."
"Can you be sure of that?" someone asked.
"Quite sure," Pat answered. "Have you ever tried to swim through sand? You won't get very far."
"What about trying the motors?"
"I doubt if they'd budge us a centimeter. And even if they did, we'd move forward - not up."
"We could all go to the rear; our weight might bring the nose up.
"It's the strain on the hull I'm worried about," said Pat. "Suppose I did start the motors - it would be like butting into a brick wall. Heaven knows what damage it might do."
"But there's a chance it might work. Isn't that worth the risk?"
Pat glanced at the Commodore, feeling a little annoyed that he had not come to his support. Hansteen stared straight back at him, as if to say, "I've handled this so far, now it's your turn." Well, that was fair enough, especially after what Sue had just said. It was time he stood on his own feet, or at least proved that he could do so.
"The danger's too great," he said flatly. "We're perfectly safe here for at least another four days. Long before then, we'll be found. So why risk everything on a million-to-one chance? If it was our last resort, I'd say yes - but not now."
He looked round the cabin, challenging anyone to disagree with him. As he did so, he could not help meeting Miss Morley's eye, nor did he attempt to avoid it. Nevertheless, it was with as much surprise as embarrassment that he heard her say: "Perhaps the Captain is in no great hurry to leave. I notice that we haven't seen much of him lately - or of Miss Wilkins."
Why, you prune-faced bitch, thought Pat. Just because no man in his right senses -
"Hold it, Harris!" said the Commodore, in the nick of time. "I'll deal with this."
It was the first time that Hansteen had really asserted himself; until now, he had run things easily and quietly, or stood in the background and let Pat get on with the job. But now they were hearing the authentic voice of authority, like a trumpet call across a battlefield. This was no retired astronaut speaking; it was a Commodore of Space.
"Miss Morley," he said, "that was a very foolish and uncalled-for remark. Only the fact that we are all under considerable strain can possibly excuse it. I think you should apologize to the Captain."
"It's true," she said stubbornly. "Ask him to deny it."
Commodore Hansteen had not lost his temper in thirty years, and had no intention of losing it now. But he knew when to pretend to lose it, and in this