"O.K. Well, so what if it doesn't. We've still got us a ship-to-ship communications system. Hey! What was that?"
That was a pale, flat-sounding human voice saying: "Kingman! I. C. Pfd. has been at six hundred and nine for two days, now. What's our next move?"
"Kingman!" exploded Channing. "Why, the ... the—"
"Careful," warned Arden. "There's a lady present."
"Huh?"
"Her," said Arden pointing at Christine.
"Wait," said Walt. "Maybe he'll answer."
Don fiddled with the dials for a full fifteen minutes, keeping them very close to the spot marked, hoping that Kingman's answer might not be too far out of tune. He gave up as the answer was not to be found, and returned to the original setting. Ten minutes later the voice said: "Kingman, where in the devil is my answer? I want to know what our next move is. There isn't a bit of V. E. stock available. Why don't you answer?"
Then, dimly in the background, a voice spoke to the operator of the instrument. "Kingman's probably asleep. That terrible moaning-stuff he's been complaining about makes him turn the thing off as soon as the day's market is off. He—and the rest of that crew—can't stand it. You'll have to wait until tomorrow's market opens before he'll be listening."
"O.K.," said the operator, and the set went silent.