"Oh, my aching back," Hagstrom moaned.
"That's not the exact target, but you're close. And awaaaay we go," the doctor chanted as he drove the needle home.
Each man received an injection of antibiotics and drank a paper cupful of anise-flavored liquid.
"Don't we get wrapped in cellophane?" Aréchaga asked.
"You'll be pure enough when that purgative goes through you."
They dressed and rode in the general's staff car to the base of the gantry. As the car stopped, the general said, "Well boys, I hope you don't expect a speech."
"We love you too, Pop," van den Burg said. They shook hands and stepped aboard the gantry platform. Hagstrom muttered and they faced a telescopic TV pickup with mechanical grins until the rising platform shielded them.
Each had his own control board and each was prepared to take over another's duties if necessary. They took off the baggy coveralls and tossed them into lockers. Aréchaga's made an odd clunk. He hitched up his shorts and turned quickly. They checked each other's instruments and settings, then went to their couches. A clock with an extra hand ticked the seconds off backward.
"We're ready," van den Burg muttered into a throat mike.
"So're we," a speaker answered tinnily.