Within five minutes Mike and Multhaus were making the proper adjustments on the external field circuits to adjust for the wobbling of the output.
The throb wavered. It wobbled around, going up to two-point-seven cycles and dropping back to one-point-four, then climbing again. All the time, it was dropping in magnitude, until finally it could no longer be felt. Finally, it dropped suddenly to a low of point-oh-five cycles, hovered there for a moment, then vanished altogether.
“By the beard of my sainted maiden aunt,” said Chief Multhaus in awe. “A three-tube offbeat solved in less than half an hour! If that isn’t a record, I’ll dye my uniform black and join the Chaplains’ Corps.”
Leda Crannon, looking tired but somehow pleased, said softly: “May I come in?”
Mike the Angel grinned. “Sure. Maybe you can—”
The intercom clicked on. “Power Section, this is the bridge.” It was Black Bart. “Are my senses playing me false, or have you stopped that beat note?”
“All secure, sir,” said Mike the Angel. “The system is stable now.”
“How many tubes were goofing?”
“Three of them.”
“Three!” There was astonishment in the captain’s voice. “How did you ever solve a three-tube beat in that short a time?”