The score of members of the crew, bronzed space-sailors out of every
port in the solar system, had listened mutely. Now, one of them, a tall
tube-man, stepped forward a little.

"Just what is this dead-area, sir?" he asked. "I've heard of it, but as
this is my first outer-planet voyage, I know nothing about it."

"I'll admit I know little more," said Liggett, "save that a good many
disabled ships have drifted into it and have never come out."

* * * * *

"The dead area," Crain told them, "is a region of space ninety thousand
miles across within Neptune's orbit, in which the ordinary gravitational
attractions of the solar system are dead. This is because in that region
the pulls of the sun and the outer planets exactly balance each other.
Because of that, anything in the dead-area, will stay in there until
time ends, unless it has power of its own. Many wrecked space-ships have
drifted into it at one time or another, none ever emerging; and it's
believed that there is a great mass of wrecks somewhere in the area,
drawn and held together by mutual attraction."

"And we're drifting in to join them," Kent said. "Some prospect!"

"Then there's really no chance for us?" asked Liggett keenly.

Captain Crain thought. "As I see it, very little," he admitted. "If our
auxiliary radio can reach some nearby ship before the _Pallas_ enters
the dead-area, we'll have a chance. But it seems a remote one."

He addressed himself to the men: "I have laid the situation frankly
before you because I consider you entitled to the truth. You must
remember, however, that while there is life there is hope.

"There will be no change in ship routine, and the customary watches will
be kept. Half-rations of food and water will be the rule from now on,
though. That is all."

As the men moved silently off, the captain looked after them with
something of pride.

"They're taking it like men," he told Kent and Liggett. "It's a pity
there's no way out for them and us."

"If the _Pallas_ does enter the dead-area and join the wreck-pack,"
Liggett said, "how long will we be able to live?"

"Probably for some months on our present condensed air and food
supplies," Crain answered. "I would prefer, myself, a quicker end."

"So would I," said Kent. "Well, there's nothing left but to pray for
some kind of ship to cross our path in the next day or two."

* * * * *

Kent's prayers were not answe