“An” me with no cookstove!” Chow groaned. “Boss, that gelatin stuff you made tasted purty good for dessert, but I sure don’t think I’m goin’ to like it for a steady diet!”
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SURPRISE MISSILE 147
Bud chuckled at the overweight cook’s worried expression. “A diet’s just what you need, Chow! Cheer up, old-timer! Maybe someone’ll rescue us before you’re down to a shadow!”
“That’ll be the day,” Arv said dryly, staring at the bulging contours of Chow’s space suit.
To keep the men occupied, Tom suggested that they move the matter-making machine away from the crevasse. Flying to the spot, they swooped down for a landing and entered the dome which housed the machine.
“We’ll have to tear down the solartron in order to move it,” Tom pointed out.
“So ditch your space suits, fellows.”
After they had taken off the suits and helmets, Tom ordered everyone to refill his oxygen tank. Then the men grabbed wrenches and other tools and set to work disassembling the heavy machine. When the job was finished, they donned their space suits again and moved the solartron, piece by piece, to another location several hundred yards away.
“May as well leave the extra dome here,” Tom decided. “We’ll need only one.”
The young inventor supervised the job of reassembling the machine and shifting the dome. Then, with the energy collectors hooked up, Tom switched on power and the machine began pumping nineteen per cent oxygen, eighty per cent nitrogen, and one per cent other ingredients. Soon the airdome was filled with a livable atmosphere.
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