Captain McPartland saw Ray Control Officer Roberts get up quietly from before the chess board, and walk over to his station. Roberts, his round face impassive, brown eyes thoughtful, slid into the chair before his microphone, and ran long, slim fingers lovingly over his calculators.
The Engineer, too, at a nod from Jon moved over to his station. His grey eyes were soft with pride as they looked over the exact scale replica of the Avenger on the table before him. Within the transparent hull, vari-colored filaments glowed with the pulse of the ship, tracing out the perfect functioning of every mechanism.
McPartland looked at the other, then back at the view screen, and his full lips tightened. He could feel the tenseness of the three officers as he spoke into the intra-ship.
"Get me Terra Patrol Base on the ship visa-phone," he ordered Radio Officer Holdern.
"Sorry, Sir," was the crisp response, "I've been trying to raise Terra since the machinist's mate found your instrument in perfect order. Terra doesn't answer!"
Jon's blue eyes hardened. "Get Mars Patrol Base!" he said softly.
As he moved to the visa-phone, Clemens took over the intra-ship, plugging in his headset. His gloomy expression deepened when the instrument buzzed immediately.
"Navigation reports integrators acting improperly, Sir," he relayed. "Radar shows negative from direction of Terra."
"Impossible!" the Captain gasped, face suddenly wooden.
"Lieutenant Parek's exact comment, Sir," Clemens said sadly. He ran a nervous hand through thinning blond hair beneath his headset. His pale eyes were expectant.