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He only knew that hours must have passed, until he thought groggily that he could not remember a time he was not glued in the seat which had been Tang's, the earphones pressing against his sweating skull, his fatigue-drugged mind being held with difficulty to the duty at hand. Sometime during that haze they made their landing.
"Huh?" replied Tom, lifting one of the earphones from his ears. "What did you say, Astro?" "Where's Manning?" reiterated Astro. "It's ten minutes after lights out." "He was going to get those study spools for us, wasn't he?" mused Tom. "He should've been back by now," grunted the Venusian. "The library closed an hour ago. Besides, he couldn't have gotten those spools.
"Nobody hurrying out with an aid and comfort kit," Rip's voice sounded in Dane's earphones. "A little slack aren't they?" Slack or was it that the Eysies had recognized the Queen and was preparing the sort of welcome the remnant of her crew could not withstand?
From the earphones Soriki had left on the seat the gabble had risen to a screech and one part of Raf's brain noted that the sounds were repetitious: was an order to surrender being broadcast? His thumb was firm on the firing button of the gun and he was about to send a warning burst to the right of the alien when an order from Hobart stopped him cold. "Take it easy, Kurbi."
Slowly, the Ranger was moving out from its hiding place behind the rock. Tom reached out to catch Greg as he came plummeting into the lock. There was a flash from the Ranger's side, and Johnny Coombs' voice boomed in his earphones: "Get inside! Get the lock closed, fast ... hurry up, can't waste a second." Johnny caught the lip of the lock, dragged himself inside frantically.
"It's mostly a job of adapting the sonarphone arrangement from our Fat Man suits in miniature." A tiny mike, Tom explained, would be installed on the inside of each face mask, with its output feeding to a sonar transducer on the exterior. The receiving transducers would feed from amplifiers to earphones.
Bart was stretched taut all the time, listening for the small codelike buzzers and ticks that warned him of filled tanks, leads in need of servicing, answers ready. Ringg's metal-fatigues testing kit was a bewildering muddle of boxes, meters, rods and earphones, each buzzing and clicking its characteristic warning.
He handed Bud a penciled sketch from the workbench, adding, "Then drill the holes for the mikes and earphones the dimensions are there on the drawing. But watch it so you don't crack the plastic." While Bud complied, Tom began assembling the tiny electronic parts. In two hours the gear was ready for testing. Tom wiped his perspiring forehead and gave Bud a grin of satisfaction.
You kept your pal's cuff and collar for him, and you put a black mark on all of our records, including mine. I hope you're satisfied." Tiger Martin took off his earphones and set them carefully on the control panel. "You know," he said to Jack, "you're lucky." "Really?" "You're lucky I don't wipe that sneer off your face and scrub the walls with it.
"We couldn't help being curious," Rick said. "Do you mind if we watch?" "Not at all." He indicated the open suitcase at his feet. It contained a built-in instrument with a meter and earphones. There was also a tubular attachment on the end of a thick wire. Rick recognized it at once and a thrill shot through him. The stranger was somehow connected with the mystery.
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