It lacked 12 minutes until drill time.
Hiller switched on the monitors for the nuclear chambers which he lighted up by activating remote spotlights. He had some trouble adjusting the scanning in one of the monitors for the fuel compartments, but it came in clear by 10 minutes until drill.
"Test drill 10 minutes!" he announced. "I want an oral report on these items from your stations: suits, rations, extra oxygen portables, first aid and anti-ray kits."
The reports came in affirmative, and Hiller relaxed slightly. The phrase "shipshape" kept coming into his mind but he rejected it as histrionic. But maybe that was the word for the whole situation, with his being guilty of plenty of hamming. Come to think of it, it was more like TV fantascience than anything else.
"Bleck," he broadcast, "leave George at the fire station and report for special orders."
He suspected Bleck was sulking through the preparations and would do George little good. The best place for Bleck was with him, suspecting what he did about the man's reactions.
"Test drill five minutes," he was announcing as a sullen Bleck arrived at master control.
"Art, better adjust the pumps to lower air pressure. Somerset, plug in the patch kits for molten. Fire crews, uncap and pressurize your mist tanks."
Hiller swung in his chair to face Bleck. "Sit down," he said. He caught the puzzlement on the man's face over the realistic degree of the last orders he gave.
"Adjust the magnetizing on your boots to high, unless you have to travel," he continued. "Unbind emergency deceleration straps and stand by."