ked."

Wilson's face was haggard, his eyes red. He blew smoke through his
nostrils.

"When we get back, how about us taking a little vacation?" he asked.

Russ laughed. "You can if you want to. Greg and I are keeping on."

"We can't waste time," Manning said. "Spencer Chambers may get wind of
this. He'd move all hell to stop us."

Wilson spat out his cigarette. "Why don't you patent what you have? That
would protect you."

* * * * *

Russ grinned, but it was a sour one.

"No use," said Greg. "Chambers would tie us up in a mile of legal red
tape. It would be just like walking up and handing it to him."

"You guys go ahead and work," Wilson stated. "I'm taking a vacation.
Three months is too damn long to stay out in a spaceship."

"It doesn't seem long to me," said Greg, his tone cold and sharp.

No, thought Russ, it hadn't seemed long. Perhaps the hours had been
rough, the work hard, but he hadn't noticed. Sleep and food had come in
snatches. For three months they had worked in space, not daring to carry
out their experiments on Earth ... frankly afraid of the thing they had.

He glanced at Manning.

The three months had left no mark upon him, no hint of fatigue or
strain. Russ understood now how Manning had done the things he did. The
man was all steel and flame. Nothing could touch him.

"We still have a lot to do," said Manning.

Russ leaned back and puffed at his pipe.

Yes, there was a lot to do. Transmission problems, for instance. To
conduct away such terrific power as they knew they were capable of
developing would require copper or silver bars as thick as a man's
thigh, and even so at voltages capable of jumping a two-foot spark gap.

Obviously, a small machine such as they now had would be impractical. No
matter how perfectly it might be insulated, the atmosphere itself would
not be an insulator, with power such as this. And if one tried to
deliver the energy as a mechanical rotation of a shaft, what shaft could
transmit it safely and under control?

"Oh, hell," Russ burst out, "let's get back to Earth."

* * * * *

Harry Wilson watched the couple alight from the aero-taxi, walk up the
broad steps and pass through the magic portals of the Martian Club. He
could imagine what the club was like, the deference of the management,
the exotic atmosphere of the dining room, the excellence of the long,
cold drinks served at the bar. My