“Yes. If it takes anywhere near full power to maintain liveable temperature, we ought to know it. I suppose extra heaters could be installed, if necessary?”
“I expect so.” For the first time, Feth wore an expression approximating a grin. “I could probably mount blast furnaces on the feet. I’m not so sure you could walk around with them.”
“Even if I can’t I can at least see.”
“If you don’t have the same trouble with your visor that I did with TV tubes. Even quartz has its limitations.”
“I still think it can take it. Anyway, it won’t cost us anything to find out. Let’s go ahead and mount those instruments — I’m rather curious to see which of us is right. Is this recorder all right?” He took from a cabinet a minute machine whose most prominent feature was the double reel of sensitized tape, and held it up as he spoke. Feth glanced at it.
“Only one record. Get an L-7. You can recognize it by the reel — its tape is about five times as wide. I’m using the single barometer you suggested, and thermometers in head, trunk, one foot, and one sleeve as far out as I can mount it. That leaves a free band on the tape that you can use for anything you want.” The mechanic was working as he spoke, clamping tiny instruments from a well-stocked supply cabinet into the places he had mentioned. For a moment Ken wondered whether the existence of this more than adequate instrument stock did not invalidate his argument about the lack of scientific facilities; then he recognized that all the devices were perfectly standard engineering instruments, and represented nothing but a respectable financial outlay. Anyone could buy and almost anyone could use them.
In spite of Feth’s evident skill, the job was a long one. They did not sleep, being Sarrians, but even they had to rest occasionally. It was during one of these rests that Ken happened to notice the time.
“Say,” he remarked to his companion, “it must be daylight on that part of the planet by now. I wonder if Drai has made his landing yet?”
“Very probably,” Feth replied, one eye following Ken’s gaze toward the clock. “He is more than likely to be back in space again — he doesn’t waste much time as a rule.”
“In that case, would I be likely to be skinned for dropping in to the observatory?” Feth gazed at him narrowly for long enough to let Ken regret the question.