"No ... but we couldn't get away without the ship."
"Yeah." Damokles' chin dropped on his chest. "I guess we gives up."
But despite the Greek's apparent despair, he had an idea of some sort.
Timmy Gordon knew it, but he also knew that Johnny was afraid to talk
about it in a room where sound detectors might pick up any hint of
escape. "Let's go to sleep, Johnny," he said.
"Yeah ... you stay your side of bed, too. Last night you kick me blacks
and blue in rib."
Which was distinctly untrue.
But if that was the way Johnny wanted things ... it was distinctly QX
with Timmy Gordon. He stretched himself on the narrow couch beside
Johnny. For twenty minutes he seemed to doze, then began kicking about
fretfully, and muttering as though in the clutch of a nightmare.
"That's right, Timmy," the little Greek whispered. "Keep her going. You
kicks hard ... yells ... them spies are too busy watching you. I can
talks."
Timmy's reply was another boot to Johnny's shin. "Go on," he whispered,
then kicked again.
"Remember what I say to you in ships?"
"About what?"
"About fool gods Neptune ... cataltickic agents ... Aristotle."
"Yes."
"Maybe I are right."
"So what?"
"Maybe if impervium get soaked on Neptune long enough ... then maybes
it behave like metal in your ship?"
"Go on." Timmy groaned, thrashed about. Threw a fist that thudded into
Johnny's ribs. The Greek grunted, and resumed his whispering.
"They puts me working on power-moons outside."
"Yes?"
"She are mades from metal of wrecked space-liner. I see one plate who
say XC-34 on her."
"Great Jupiter, Johnny! That's the liner I got the metal for my ship
from ... just one fin was all I had to work with."
"Shut up! Dam' fools. Want him Neptune stinkers hear you?"
Instead of answering, Timmy grunted in his supposed sleep. Damokles
whispered on: "They don't guards me! They make me be dam' fool clowns
for Neptuners to laugh at. 'Get sky hook! Get bucket steam-ice!' That's
what them lizards-men holler at me."
"Yes?"
"Then ... _cracks_! Hit Greek with fist. Don't like."
"Skip it, Johnny. What's your idea?"
"I hear them say ... artificial power moon ain't gonna be that at
all. Gonna be giant bomb. Gonna load with tons an' tons an' tons of
_dynotron_. Shoot him to Jupiter ... blow all air off everythings!"
"Good lord! Dynotron would do just that ... and then they'll repeat the
procedure."
"Is right! I hear lizard-pig say just that!"
"How do you figure on stopping 'em, Johnny?"
Damokles wriggled, poked Timmy hard with his elbow. "Lay still!" he
shouted. "I can no sleeps!" He butted up against Timmy, and began to
whisper in fast chaotic broken murmurs. "I got a long story to tells
you, Timmy. All about powerful old Greeks' king."
For half an hour they trashed about, while Damokles unfolded his plan.
At last, Timmy grunted. "QX," he said. "Can do!" He rolled over and
fell into an extremely troubled sleep.