"Me?" I bellowed, for a moment forgetting even my blistered nose. I called him several names.
Mike laughed—like crazy.
"Now to get Bill back here. We'll even leave the port open for him."
I thought that was good, until he removed a tank of sleep gas from its brackets and dragged it to the entry.
"You can't reach Bill on the Hustic," I reminded him. "Use the radio."
"And let him know who's making like a caterpillar in a cocoon?" Once more I thought of the supernormal cleverness of lunacy.
He made some painstaking adjustments on the Hustic and flicked the changeover switch to send.
Through the open port I could see three of the Marties watching the Banshee. If they'd been humans I'd have yelled for help, but with Marties I'd have been wasting my breath.
Mike kept stepping up the power. His lips were tight and his eyes squinted in concentration. And then I saw one of the Marties move. Actually make an aimless movement. He shifted from one foot to the other. The second turned his hand from side to side as though uneasy. The third took a few steps back and forth. And Martians just didn't act like that.
"Secondary effects," Mike grunted. "I'm not tuned on them, but the wave spills over."