"First thing I tried," Rajcik said. "Not a chance, on the fuel we have left. We can turn a degree or two, but it won't help." Watkins said, "Of course it will! We'll curve back into the Solar System!" "Sure, but the best curve we can make will take a few thousand years for us to complete." "Perhaps a landfall on some other planet—Neptune, Uranus—" Rajcik shook his head. "Even if an outer planet were in the right place at the right time, we'd need fuel—a lot of fuel—to get into a braking orbit. And if we could, who'd come get us? No ship has gone past Mars yet." "At least we'd have a chance," Watkins said. "Maybe," Rajcik agreed indifferently. "But we can't swing it. I'm afraid you'll have to kiss the Solar System good-by." Captain Somers wiped his forehead and tried to think of a plan. He found it difficult to concentrate. There was too great a discrepancy between his knowledge of the situation and its appearance. He knew—intellectually—that his ship was traveling out of the Solar System at a tremendous rate of speed. But in appearance they were stationary, hung in the abyss, three men trapped in a small, hot room, breathing the smell of hot metal and perspiration. "What shall we do, Captain?" Watkins asked. Somers frowned at the engineer. Did the man expect him to pull a solution out of the air? How was he even supposed to concentrate on the problem? He had to slow the ship, turn it. But his senses told him that the ship was not moving. How, then, could speed constitute a problem? Somers He couldn't help but feel that the real problem was to get away from these high-strung, squabbling men, to escape from this hot, smelly little room. "Captain! You must have some idea!" Somers tried to shake his feeling of unreality. The problem, the real problem, he told himself, was how to stop the ship. He looked around the fixed cabin and out the porthole at the unmoving stars. We are moving very rapidly, he thought, unconvinced. Rajcik said disgustedly, "Our noble captain can't face the situation."
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