Hardwick reached over and took the microphone.
"Hardwick speaking," he said. "I'd like information. What's the trouble down there that we can't use our rockets?"
"Rockets are noisy, sir. Even boat-rockets. We have orders to prevent all physical vibration possible, sir. But I am ordered not to give details on a transmitter, sir."
"I'll sign off," said Hardwick, dryly.
He pushed the microphone away. He deplored his own lack of aggressiveness. Werner, now, would have pulled his rank and insisted on being informed. But Hardwick couldn't help believing that there was a reason for orders that over-ruled his own.
The young officer swung the rocket end-for-end. The sensation of pressure against the back of Hardwick's seat increased.
Minutes later the speaker said:
"Grid to boat. Prepare for lock-on."
"Ready, sir," said Barnes.
The small boat shuddered and leaped crazily. It spun. It oscillated violently through seconds-long arcs in emptiness. Very, very gradually, the oscillations died. There was a momentary sensation of the faint tugging of planetary weight, which is somehow subtly different from the feel of artificial gravity. Then the cosmos turned upside down as the boat was drawn very swiftly toward the watery planet below it.