"Winds are pretty bad. Seem to be coming full force from the southeast if you can trust the compass. Had to tack around to counteract their force." Charleston of course couldn't admit that his infrareds didn't allow for variable headwinds and compass deviations and therefor weren't as dependable as the Authority's beams.
But his daughter could.
"Why don't you switch onto the Authority frequency? The beam's on 65 megacycles in case you're interested."
Charleston harrrrumphed again but reached out to switch on the receiver.
Immediately he started receiving the steady hum of the on-course signal, broken at 30 second intervals by the keying of P V, identification signal of the base station. A minute later he heard the dash-dot signifying N, meaning that he was to the left (and in his case presumably to the north) of his course. Keying in the port jets he swung to the right and received the on-course signal again. He noticed with satisfaction that the destroyer had done likewise.
"Ginny," he admitted weakly, "this radio range business is quite the business. Of course the Charleston infrareds—"
"Of course!" smiled the daughter.
It was Charleston's turn to be squelched.
Suddenly the range signals were interrupted by the beam operator's voice:
"PV, Pali-Vanyi. Notice to all spacemen. Due to the unusually adverse weather conditions at surface, the north-south landing beams will be left on permanently until further notice. PV, Pali-Vanyi."