At the moment he was all technician. He was draped over the rack in front of the control board, his tentacles resting on the various toggles and verniers, and a rising hum indicated that the tubes were warming. After a moment, he twisted a vernier knob slightly, and the torpedo on which Ken had been working lifted gently from the cradle. He spoke without turning his eyes backward:
“If you’ll go to the far end of the room, I’ll run it down there and we can test the microphone and speaker. I know you don’t plan to use them, but we might as well have them serviceable.”
Ken followed the suggestion, testing first the sound apparatus and then the various recorders and other instruments in the cargo chamber which were intended to tell whether or not any violent chemical reactions took place — photocells and pyrometers, and gas pumps connected to sample flasks and precipitators. Everything appeared in working order and was firmly clamped in place.
Assured of this, the operator guided the little vessel to a tunnel-like air lock in one wall of the room, maneuvered it in, pumped back the air, and drove the torpedo out into the vacuum of Mercury’s surface. Without further ado he sent it hurtling away from the planet, its control keyed in with a master achronic beam running from the station to the relay unit near Earth. No further attention would be needed until it approached the planet.
The mechanic rose from in front of the panel, and turned to Ken.
“I’m going to sleep for a while,” he said. “I’ll be back before arrival time. In case you care, you’ll be making the first landing. It takes one and a half revolutions of Planet Three, more or less, to get the torpedo there when the planets are in their present relative positions — we can’t use overdrive on the drones — and the signal must have come during the local daytime. I’ll see you. Have me paged if you want me for anything.”
Ken gave the equivalent of an affirmative nod.
“All right — and thanks. Your name is Allmer, isn’t it?”
“Right — Feth Allmer.” Without further speech the mechanic disappeared through the door, moving with the fluid ease of a person well accustomed to Mercury’s feeble gravity, and leaving Sallman Ken in a very thoughtful mood behind him.
Almost unconsciously the investigator settled onto the rack deserted by Allmer, and stared blankly at the indicators in front of him. One of his troubles, he reflected ruefully, was his tendency to get interested in two problems at once. In one way, that might be good, of course; the genuine absorption in the problem of Planet Three was the best possible guard against suspicion of his other job; but it didn’t help him to concentrate on that other. For hours now he had thought of practically nothing but his test project, until Allmer’s parting remarks had jarred him back to duty.