Her eyes were steadier than her husband's. "Follow you down and buy myself a tambourine," she said. "What did you think?"
Midge's small hands were painfully tight on the edge of the control panel. On the screen before her, reproduced with excellent fidelity in spite of the transmitter's peanut size, appeared whatever Samson was seeing: at the moment, the interior of a bronze-green room and two of the roly-poly, stumpy-legged tentacled autochthons of Kenilworth IV. She could see Samson's hands, whenever he happened to raise them; she could not see his face.
On a smaller screen to the left was a view from a pickup in the ship's hull—a grassy plain, seen from above, with a huge, black, lozenge-shaped spaceship and a cluster of the little KenilFour air-cars.
Samson's voice remarked, "They say the Kassid is coming now."
Midge wanted to say something encouraging and affectionate, but her voice stuck in her throat.
After a moment, a doorway dilated at the end of the pictured room and something hopped in. For the benefit of the listening Harlow at H.Q., Midge began to describe it. "About a meter and a half tall—must be an oxygen breather, I can't see any mask—it's a uniped. Moves partly by hopping, partly by contracting its foot. Rather thick trunk and four limbs besides the foot, two at the very top, two where the trunk joins the leg. A lot of flabby fingers, can't tell how many. Three eyes in a horizontal line, vertical mouth under them. No clothes. Whole thing a dull tan color, with dark pa—"
A doorway dilated and something hopped in.