“Don’t bother trying to talk,” said Kurt, noticing the violent contractions of the commander’s Adam’s apple. “You’d better save your breath for my colonel.”
“Who?” demanded Krogson.
“My colonel,” repeated Kurt. “We’d better head back and pick him up. Can you make these ships hang in one place or do they have to keep moving fast to stay up?”
The commander clamped his jaws together sullenly and said nothing.
Kurt made a tentative move toward the firing stud.
“Easy!” yelled the gunnery officer in alarm. “That thing has hair-trigger action!”
“Well?” said Kurt to Krogson.
“We can hover,” grunted the other.
“Then take up a position a little to one side of the plateau.” Kurt brushed the surface of the firing stud with a casual finger. “If you make me push this, I don’t want a lot of scrap iron falling down on the battalion. Somebody might get hurt.”
As the fleet came to rest above the plateau, the call light on the communication panel began to flash again.