"That's correct, sir," replied Horowitz. "I don't know exactly how the things work, but I could guess that they detonate the heavy metals used for fuel in atomic powered vessels." "Range?" asked Lieutenant Orsov laconically. "No information ... but I would be willing to guess that it is not more than fifty miles no matter how tight their beam. There would be far too great a voltage loss." "Mr. Blake," said Hartnett, "How good are you on the skeeter-boat?" Blake looked perplexed, but he answered with some pride that he was considered quite passable. "I'll bear that out, sir," said Scott drily. "Mr. Blake is something of a hotshot pilot." "Good enough," returned Hartnett. "We'll see when we near Station 9." He looked over at Blake. "Do you think you can land a skeeter there and take off three passengers without arousing the Cats?" "A skeeter is only meant for three people, sir, and four would be quite an overload," protested Blake. "It will have to be done. If we try to land a ship there, every Cat in the quadrant will be on our necks. It's either the skeeter, or ..." he shrugged expressively. "If we strip the boat down and remove all unnecessary mass it should do," suggested Orsov. "What do you think, Blake?" Blake gulped. To strip the skeeter would mean removing all armor and guns. "I ... uh...." He squared his shoulders and grinned sheepishly. "It would," he declared finally. "Good," said the Commodore. "Just where is this Station 9, sir?" asked Morse. Hartnett ignored the question, but by way of answer, he turned to his Flotilla Astrogator, Thorne and asked: "Do you remember the analysis of Oberon's surface, Thorne?" "Vaguely. All four of the Uranian satellites are composed mainly of pitchblende and similar ores. Heavy metals. Very dense. I happen to remember because it's one of the coincidences of astronomy that the planet itself was given the name Uranus before the discovery that the whole of its system was lousy with uranium ores." "What else can you tell us about it?" "Well, Oberon is small
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