"Who—me? Listen, Dr. Channing, you're the bird on the tapeline. You have no idea just how insignificant you look from seven hundred and sixteen miles away. Put a red-hot on the 'finder and have 'im tell me where the ship sits!"
"O.K., Freddy, you're on the beam and I'll put a guy on here to give you the dope. Right?"
"Right!"
"Right," echoed Arden. "And I'm going to bring you a slug of coffee and a roll. Or did you remember to eat recently?"
"We didn't," chimed in Walt.
"You get your own girl," snorted Channing. "And besides, you are needed up here. We've got work to do."
Once again the signal lashed out. The invisible waves drove out and began their swift run across the void. Time, as it always did during the waiting periods, hung like a Sword of Damocles. The half-hour finally ticked away, and Freddy called in: "No dice. She's as silent as the grave."
Minutes added together into an hour. The concentric wave left the reflector and just dropped out of sight.
"Too bad you can't widen her out," suggested Don.