"Go ahead," grunted Knox. "But make it fast, doctor."
Lansing smiled at the warden, carefully placed his cigar in the ash tray before him and said, "We've been working on the ships night and day. Both the dust itself and its secondary effects are getter closer to us all the time. We've been so intent on the job—it's really been a race against time!—that only yesterday one of my young men remembered the Mountain State Penitentiary was well within our sphere of control."
"The country—what's left of it—has been split up into regions," the general said. "So many ships to each region."
"So," Lansing went on, "learning about you meant there was another batch of passengers to round up. And when I was told the warden was yourself—I know something of your career, Mr. Halloran—I was delighted. Frankly," he grinned at Knox, "we're long on military and scientific brass and short on people who can manage other people."
"I see." Halloran pressed a buzzer on his desk. "I think some of my associates ought to be in on this discussion."
"Discussion?" barked Knox. "Is there anything to discuss? We simply want you out of here in an hour—"
"Please, general!" the warden said quietly.
If the gray-clad man who entered the office at that moment heard the general's outburst, he gave no sign. He stood stiffly in front of the warden's big desk, a little to one side of the two visitors, and said, "Yes sir, Mr. Halloran?"
"Hello, Joe. Know where the captain is?"