They zipped past the station at a distance of ten miles, and Channing opened the radio.
"Walt Franks! Wake up, you slumberhead."
The answer came inside of half a minute. "Hello, Don. Who's asleep?"
"Where are you? In Joe's?"
"Joe has declared a drought for the duration," said Franks with a laugh. "He thinks we can't think on Scotch."
"We can't. Have you seen the boys?"
"Murdoch's crew? Sure, they're circling at about five miles, running around in the plane of the ecliptic. Keep running on the colure and the chances are that you won't even see 'em. But, Don, they can hear us!"
"How about the landing stage at the south end?"
"There are two of them running around the station at different heights from north to south. The third is circling in a four-mile circle on a plane five miles south of the station. We've picked up a few HE shells, and I guess that, if you try to make a landing there, you'll be shot to bits. That devil is using the meteor detector for a gun pointer."
"Walt, remember the visual loran?"