"Then get into communication with the city plant and tell them to prepare for every work-unit they can carry. I'll get the generator." Arcot turned, and flew on his power suit to the ship.
In a few moments he was back, a molecular pistol in one hand, and suspended in front of him on nothing but a ray of ionized air, to all appearances, a cylindrical apparatus, with a small cubical base.
The cylinder was about four feet long, and the cubical box about eighteen inches on a side.
"What is that, and what supports it?" asked the Talsonian scientists in surprise.
"The thing is supported by a ray which directs the molecules of a small bar in the top clamp, driving it up," explained Morey, "and that is the generator."
"That! Why it is hardly as big as a man!" exclaimed the Talsonian.
"Nevertheless, it can generate a billion horsepower. But you couldn't get the power away if you did generate it." He turned toward Arcot, and called to him.
"Arcot—set it down and let her rip on about half a million horsepower for a second or so. Air arc. Won't hurt it—she's made of lux and relux."
Arcot grinned, and set it on the ground. "Make an awful hole in the ground."
"Oh—go ahead. It will satisfy this fellow, I think," replied Morey.