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"Is Brett with you?" asked the voice over the audioceiver. "No. I'll tell you about it when we get together. All the rockets in space broke loose up there on Titan for a while." "What do you mean? Hey! I think I just picked you up on my radar!" said the voice over the loud-speaker. "Give me the identification signal." Tom watched Miles go to the radarscope and make a minute adjustment.
"I receive orders on an audioceiver in my home," answered the man, a slight quaver in his voice. "I have never seen my superior." "And you followed the Nationalist movement blindly, doing whatever they told you, without question, is that it?" "Yes." "Yes, sir!" roared Walters. "Yes, sir," corrected the secretary. "Who told you to forge those orders for priority seats on the Venus Lark?"
"Spaceport traffic control to Connel," came a voice in reply over the audioceiver. "You are cleared. Your time is two minutes to zero!" Connel began snapping the many levers and switches on the control panel in proper sequence, keeping a wary eye on the astral chronometer over his head as one of its red hands ticked off the seconds to blast-off.
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