drift all the way, I think they'll be out of power before they get
there," Brandon summed up the situation. "We aren't losing any power,
either, since we are using only a part of our cosmic intake."

In a few hours the struggle had settled down to a routine matter--the
_Sirius_ being pushed backward steadily against the full drive of her
every projector, contesting stubbornly every mile of space traversed.
Assured that the regular pilots and lookouts were fully capable
of handling the vessel, the scientists were about to resume their
interrupted tasks when one of the photographers called them over to look
at something he had discovered in one of the lowermost and smallest
compartments of the heptagon. All crowded around the screens, and saw
pictured there the winged, snake-like form of one of the original crew
of the Vorkulian vessel!

"Dead?" Brandon asked.

"Not yet," replied the photographer. "He is twitching a little once in
a while, but you see, he's pretty badly cut up."

"I see he is ... he must have a lot of vitality to have lasted this
long--may be he'll live through it yet. Hold him on the plate, and get
his exact measurements." He turned to the communicator. "Doctor von
Steiffel? Can you come down to the control room a minute? We may want
you to operate upon one of these South Jovians after a while."

"_Himmel! Es ... ist ... der...._" The great surgeon, bearded and
massive, stared into the plate, and in his surprise started to speak
in his native German. He paused, his long, powerful fingers tracing the
likeness of the Vorkul upon the plate, then went on: "I would like very
much to operate, but, not understanding our intentions, he would, of
course, struggle. And when that body struggles--_schrecklichkeit_!" and
he waved his arms in a pantomime of wholesale destruction.

"I thought of that--that's why I am talking to you now instead of when
we get to him, two or three days from now. We'll give you his exact
measurements, and a crew of mechanics will, under your direction, sink
holes in the steel floor and install steel bands heavy enough to hold
him rigid, from tailfins to wing-tips. We'll hold him there until we can
make him understand that we're friends. It is of the utmost importance
to save that creature's life if possible; because we do not want one of
their fortresses launched against us--and in any event, it will not do
us any harm to have a friend in the City of the South."

"Right. I will als