Gradually, the scene took on a busy appearance. Men in suits bustled around the ships, and they rang with the sound of repair and servicing. And across the plain there came a steady stream of men carrying white-swathed bodies, and when six came in, twelve left to continue the work. With progressingly larger numbers at work, the stream of men entering the huge, squat building became a double line, a triple line, and then a sixfold line. Other buildings opened, and the stream continued to expand.
Projectors and turret-mounted MacMillans roved the sky and the detectors went out to their extreme limit.
Technicians worked over Guy's thought-beam, and produced a large one for each ship in the small group. Maynard's fleet would be knit with thought-communications, and no interference would cause them to lose control. Other technicians toyed with the vortex projectors, and though Guy saw no more success here than on Ertene, the amount of activity was higher by far, and in a few weeks the Terrans had passed the most advanced researches of the Ertinians.
A convoy of Terran ships approached, and Guy merely smiled.
"I've been expecting them. Go get 'em, Harrison!"
"Right. They're replacements for this gang?"
"Were."
"Why don't we wake up the gang that was here when you came?"
"You know that. I can't trust 'em. I brought you fellows back—at least you owe me your lives."
"I'll argue that point when I get back. Ships, supplies, and men! We need 'em!"