I started for the radio room. But before I had taken two steps the audio began talking again.
"Lieutenant Lancelot Biggs," it called, "aboard the Saturn—congratulations! You are the father of a fine baby boy!"
My face sort of blanched. I turned to Biggs. "Congratulations," I offered, "again, Lanse! Golly—two boys!"
Hanson demanded, "Whaddya mean, two boys! That's a repeat message, you dope!"
Lanse smiled sort of feebly.
"I—I'm afraid not, Dad," he said. "If it were a repeat message, Marlowe would have said, 'Repeat.' Sparks is right. I—I'm the father of twins!"
"Well, I'll be darned!" ejaculated the Old Man. Then, rallying, "Twins, eh? Good! That makes me two grampaws, eh? Fine! I'm twice as gla—"
He stopped, his jaw dropping strickenly. For again Joe Marlowe's voice was rolling through the control turret.
"Lieutenant Lancelot Biggs," it called, "aboard the Saturn—congratulations! You are the father of a fine baby boy—"
"G-g-gracious!" gasped Biggs, and fell into a chair. "Triplets!"