Stewart glanced at the director, who looked swiftly away. But their eyes had met for an instant and, in Randall's, Stewart wondered whether he hadn't detected something cunning, elusive. Or was it just the same nameless fear that he, himself, felt.
"There it goes!" McAllister exclaimed. "The OC's getting ready to transmit!"
Elbows splayed along the ridge, Carol watched the huge machine steadying its parabolic discs on a spot close to the horizon.
"See if you can pick up some of the spill-off," Stewart urged.
She waved for silence. "I'm beginning to get it now."
"Can you pinpoint the frequency?"
"Just a notch about one thirty-six point two MCs."
"On the nose, isn't it?" Randall asked.
"Close enough. How are the signals, Carol?"