"On what? In what?" demanded Ganti.
"In the helicopter that feeds us," said Jorgenson.
"It never lands," said Ganti practically.
"We can make it land," said Jorgenson. Thrid weren't allowed to make mistakes; he could make it a mistake not to land.
"The crew is armed," said Ganti. "There are three of them."
"They've only knives and scimitars," said Jorgenson. "They don't count. We can make better weapons than they have."
Ganti looked skeptical. Jorgenson explained. He had to demonstrate crudely. The whole idea was novel to Ganti, but the Thrid were smart. Presently he grasped it. He said:
"I see the theory. If we can make it work, all right. But how do we make the copter land?"
Jorgenson realized that they talked oddly. They spoke with leisurely lack of haste, with the lack of hope normal to prisoners to whom escape is impossible, even when they talk about escape. They could have been discussing a matter that would not affect either of them. But Jorgenson quivered inside. He hoped.
"We'll try it," said Ganti detachedly, when he'd explained again. "If it fails, they'll only stop giving us food and water."