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"Will you give Corbett the order to be ready at 0600 hours tomorrow morning, Steve?" he asked. "Certainly, Lou," replied Strong. As the major turned away, Walters called after him, "Take it easy." Leaving Hemmingwell and Barret to take care of clearing away the wreckage, Strong and Walters climbed out of the ship, left the hangar, and headed for the Academy.
Strong paused and looked around. "Are there any questions?" "When will the first ship blast off, Captain Strong?" asked a lean and leathery-looking spaceman in the back of the room. "First time trial takes place at 0600 hours tomorrow morning. Each ship has a designated time. Consult your schedules for the blast-off time of your ships."
"If you are scheduled to blast off tomorrow at 0600 hours, Captain Miles," Strong announced coldly, "and you are unable to raise ship, you will be eliminated." Stifling an angry retort, Quent Miles sat down, and while Strong continued to answer questions, Astro, a worried frown on his face, stared at the spaceman dressed in black. Tom noticed it. "What's wrong with you, Astro?" he asked.
It was 0600 in India; the Sector Regional Deputy Subchief who was holding down Ranthar Jard's desk looked equally sleepy; he had a mug of coffee in front of him, and a brown-paper cigarette in his mouth. "Oh, hello, Assistant Verkan. Want me to call Subchief Ranthar?" "Is he sleeping? Then for mercy's sake don't. What's the present status of the investigation?"
He spent a couple of hours checking the 0600 'cast and briefing Harry Walsh for the indeterminate period in which he would be acting chief editor and producer. At 0700, Foxx Travis put in an appearance. They went down to the fourth floor, to the little room they had fitted out as command-post, control room and office for Operation Shoonoo.
He wanted to talk and to be talked to. Anything to fill up the void in his mind; anything to take the place of a world that had suddenly vanished. What would he be doing now, if this had not happened? Involuntarily, he glanced at his wrist, but the chronometer was gone. He would have awakened, as always, at precisely 0600 ship time.
Her lack of self-confidence was the real problem, all right; it was hard enough convincing someone who had a normal amount, and not always successful at that. It was 0900 Standard, 0600 at the MacLeod's Landing time she was accustomed to, when Corina was awakened by her doorchime. "Who is there?" she called, stretching herself out of bed. "It's just me, Sunbeam," came from the door speaker.
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