Sandra didn't answer, and at that moment, McBride's men came with their tools. Wordlessly, they nodded to Sandra and then followed McBride into the Lady Luck.
McBride wasted no time. "Al," he said, "you fit the mag-G for vertical bi-lobar field to cover the nose of the crate with the top lobe, and Westy, you see that the mech-G generator in the nose induces the proper vectors in the cupralum bar. I'll get Hank and Jim to touch up the wiring and safety devices. We'll have this crate back in space within the hour!"
"Working a little fast, aren't you?" asked Sandra.
"No. I don't think so. You've got most of the main stuff in place. It's merely a matter of running the alphatron lines correctly—remember, Sandra, alphons are not electrons and even low-alphon lines require smooth, round bends, otherwise they squirt off in a crackling alphonic discharge that will eat the side out of a steel tank. You've done most of the heavy work. It just requires touching up here and there: getting the proper field-intensity out of the gravitic generators and adjusting the output of the alphatrons. Then there is some tricky relay work with the safety circuits: it wouldn't improve your beauty to suddenly find yourself sitting in the pilot's chair at seven thousand gravities."
Sandra shuddered.
"Oh, and look, since you've got the compensator. You'll find a static-charge meter handy, perhaps. If there are planets around Sirius, who knows what their intrinsic charge is. We'll loan you one so that you can make planet without making a corona at the same time. Rarefied air makes pretty lights when it comes under a few trillion volts—and being a cathode is no worse than being an anode when your voltage is running up into a bushel of zeroes—either is equally disconcerting. How do you intend to spot any planets?"