"I am," retorted Albrekt, holding the heat gun steady.

"Por Dios, Carrel's not strapped in!" exclaimed the engineer. "You'll break every bone in his body if you don't give him warning!"

Albrekt glanced at his watch.

"You have five minutes to warn him and strap yourself in," he said. "I can't be bothered."

Migl vanished down the hatch and Albrekt flicked the switch that closed and locked it. A moment later the intercom system erupted with Migl's frantic voice from below:

"General alarm! Prepare for emergency acceleration! General alarm! Hurry, Carrel!"

Albrekt smiled grimly.

The second hand swept around the face of the chronometer, boosting the reluctant minute hand forward in jerks. At exactly 1300 hours, Albrekt pushed the firing button.

The tape chattered through the automatic pilot. Apparently, the makers of the tape had planned on a fast-get-away: the pressure must have approached 5-G, pinning Albrekt painfully back against the cushioned reclining chair.

He was able to move his eyes to watch the outside screens. The other eleven ships of the convoy, coasting in formation in their orbit, dwindled behind them and swung gradually to one side.

In a few moments, everything cut off, and weightlessness returned. Red lights were flashing all over the control board, and distant alarm bells were clanging in the depths of the ship. Albrekt had no idea what they meant. He was no spaceman.

The radio loudspeaker crackled and blared. The convoy had discovered the By Jove!'s defection.

"Themis to flagship! Themis to flagship! By Jove! has changed course! Moving away fast. Position, RA 16-2-1/2, D minus 19-40."

After a moment:

"Flagship to Themis: acknowledged. Flagship to By Jove! Flagship to By Jove! Carrel, what the hell?"

Albrekt grinned.

"Themis to flagship," called the loudspeaker, when silence greeted the query. "Shall we follow?"

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