"Chuck, for the Love of Michael, what in the devil is going on?"
"Thought you knew," answered Thomas. "Burbank had the crew install photoelectric mosaic banks on the beam controls. He intends to use the photomosaics to keep Venus, Terra, and Mars on the beam."
"Great Snivelling Scott! They tried that in the last century and tossed it out three days later. Where's the crew now?"
"Packing for home. They've been laid off!"
"Get 'em back! Put 'em to work. Turn off those darned photomosaics and use the manual again. We've lost every beam we ever had."
A sarcastic voice came in at this point. "For what reason do you interfere with my improvements?" sneered the voice. "Could it be that you are accepting graft from the employees to keep them on the job by preventing the installation of superior equipment?"
Channing turned on his toe and let Burbank have one. It was a neat job, coming up at the right time and connecting sweetly. Burbank went over on his head.
"Get going," Channing snapped at Thomas.
Charles Thomas grinned. It was not Channing's one-ninety that decided him to comply. He left.
Channing shook Burbank's shoulder. He slapped the man's face. Eyes opened, accusing eyes rendered mute by a very sore jaw, tongue, and throat.