He hesitated. The cold was already coming through his suit. He remembered he hadn't turned on either the heating element or interphone system. He drew the hatch shut and dogged it down, then switched both on. The others saw his movements and followed suit.
"See anything?" Prochaska was the first to ask. His voice sounded tinny and far away. Crag adjusted his amplifier and said grimly:
"It blew."
"How ... how did it get here?" He identified the voice as Nagel's.
He snapped brusquely, "That's what I'm going to find out." Larkwell was silent. Nagel began fiddling with the oxygen valves. They waited, quietly, each absorbed in his thoughts until Nagel indicated it was safe to remove their suits. Crag's thoughts raced while he shucked the heavy garments. It's past, he thought, but the saboteur's still here. Who? He flicked his eyes over the men. Who? That's what he had to find out—soon! When the suit was off, he hurriedly put through a call to Gotch, reporting what had happened.
The Colonel listened without comment. When Crag finished, he was silent for a moment. Finally he replied:
"Here's where we stand. We will immediately comb the record of every intelligence agent involved in the last shakedown. We'll also recomb the records of the Aztec crew, including yours. I've got to tell you this because it's serious. If there's a saboteur aboard—and I think there is—then the whole operation's in jeopardy. It'll be up to you to keep your eyes open and analyze your men. We've tried to be careful. We've checked everyone involved back to birth. But there's always the sleeper. It's happened before."
"Check," Crag said. "I only hope you don't catch up with all my early peccadillos."
"This is no time to be funny. Now, some more news for you. Washington reports that the enemy launched another missile this morning."
"Another one?" Crag sighed softly. This time there would be no satelloid, no Pickering to give his life.