Grimes tossed the handset to the radio operator. "Send a recording of that conversation to the Mayor of Nephele," he said.
The boy nodded and began calling the Nephele exchange. Grimes turned to Dr. Johnson.
"I want a man for a dangerous job that will require mental alertness at all times. Who would you recommend?"
Manson spoke up before the doctor could make up his mind. "Myself, sir," he said.
Grimes dismissed the engineer without even looking at him. "Need you here, Manson. How about Fuqua?" he asked the doctor.
"I would suggest Lerner, your assistant astro-navigator. He's the healthiest specimen aboard and genuinely courageous, I'm quite certain."
"Call Lerner on the inter-com, Johnny," Grimes told the radio operator. Then to Bill Manson he said, "Get a Mars kit ready for him, and then have one TV camera equipped with a long boy. I want to be able to watch every step Lerner takes, just as if I were alongside him."
He then strode rapidly to the pilot's desk and called Kai-Ling to a window.
Somewhere in the back of his brain something was worrying him. All along he had pictured himself leading a half dozen of his crew in a sort of battle formation from one sector of the city to the next, alert to catch a Priman sniper or uncover a booby-trap. Now here he was making plans to send one man out alone—probably to certain death. What did he expect to gain from that? Was he softening under pressure? Or was he really applying reason, as he tried to convince himself?
"I want you to hover ten feet above that end of the airstrip," he told the pilot, pointing. "We'll drop Lerner from that height. But don't go down until I tell you."