th Hot Rod there's not much we can do--we
can't fire on Earth, we'd hit friend as well as enemy. So I think
we've just got to stand and fight a bit, and then destroy both Hot Rod
and the wheel. Anyhow, that's Nails' decision, and I've got to get to
Nails--"

"Whoa!" Millie finally managed to stem the flow. "We're not stuck--not
just stuck here in orbit any longer, waiting to see what's going on on
Earth," she said softly, "or what they're going to do about us 'mad
scientists.' Mike and Ishie started this whole thing when one of their
experiments turned out to be a space drive, and the boys are working
real hard on getting a drive unit set up capable of taking our whole
complex out into space. But they need somebody to tell the captain ...
uh ... properly ... as soon as he's awake that is ... uh ... you know
what I mean."

"Whoa, yourself, girl. What's this--space drive?"

"Well, they didn't find out themselves until after it had wiped out
Thule Base--nearly ten hours after that, in fact. That magneto-ionic
thing the Sacred Cow's been talking about--they invented that real
quick to cover up. You see ... oh, it's too complicated.

"Look, we've got a real _space_ drive. We can go to the moon or
Mars--or Pluto if we want to. And we've got to let Nails know real
quick that he can get us out of here--and without making him mad that
we wrecked Thule Base. But really, after the way those Security goons
acted, maybe he won't be mad if you handle it right. How about it?"

The hangover was disappearing magically. But this flow of information
was nearly as bad.

A space drive? Bessie knew she couldn't evaluate one way or the other
on that. That would be Nails' problem.

But they were in a pickle, and it would be up to her to see that Nails
didn't waste too much time evaluating things. Those Security men had
been prepared to play real rough, and more of them were on their way
up.

"Where is Nails?"

"The boys put him to bed. In his quarters. He got a dose of the same
stuff that put you out. He ought to be coming to almost any time now.
And probably mad about the whole thing."

Instantly, Bessie was on her feet, flinging on clothes, and out down
the corridor toward Nails' private stateroom.

* * * * *

It had been thirty-two hours since Major--General--whatever it was
Elbertson--had been defeated on the bridge for the final time.

He and his men were now securely locked in one of the em