ight climb
inside and crawl out of sight. Or a grown man who had no shoulders or
arms to get wedged in the narrow cylinder.

Out in space, the inner ends of the tubes were closed with a
combustion cap wherein the fuel was ignited. But in the dome, where
the ship was not used for months at a time....

Yes, there was that possibility.

He tried a lower tube. He lay on the floor and thrust his head inside.
He wriggled and shoved with his feet until he had forced himself
entirely in. It was dark and terrifying, but no time for
claustrophobia.

He stopped momentarily and listened. A geepee descended noisily into
the landing pit. The absence of any other sound indicated to Docchi
that it was radio-controlled.

He drove himself on, though it was slow progress. The walls were
smooth and it was difficult to get much purchase. The going became
even tougher--the tube was getting smaller. Not much, but enough to
matter.

Again he stopped. Outside, there was the characteristic sputter, like
frying, that the toaster beam made when it struck metal. A great
clatter followed.

"Get him!" shouted Cameron. "He's up there!"

Jordan had arrived and had picked off a geepee. And it wasn't going to
be easy for Cameron to capture him. The diversion would help.

"Don't use heat," ordered Cameron. "Get your lights on him. Blind him.
Drive him in a corner and then go up and get him."

Docchi had been wrong; the geepees were controlled by voice, not
radio. That would make it easier for him once he got inside the ship.
If he did.

It looked as though he would. The tube wasn't getting narrower. More
important, the air was not noticeably stale. The combustion cap had
been retracted, which was a lucky break. His feet slipped. It didn't
matter; somehow he inched along. Blood was pounding in his veins from
the constriction, but his head emerged in the rocket.

He stared at the retracted combustion cap a few feet away. If he had
arms, he could grasp it and pull himself free. But if he had arms, he
would never have gotten this far. He wriggled until his body was
nearly out and only his legs were in the tube. He kicked hard, fell to
the floor.

He lay there while his head cleared, then rolled to his feet and
staggered forward to the control compartment. The rocket was his, but
he didn't want it for himself alone.

He stared thoughtfully at the instrument panel. It had been a long
time since he had operated a ship. When he understood the