He took his bulb light from his helmet; we stood in a group while he waved it. A semaphore signal.
"Grantline?"
And the answer came, "Yes. You, Dean?"
Their personal code. No doubt of this—it was Grantline, who had seen the Planetara fall and had come to help us.
I stood then with my hand holding Anita. And I whispered, "It's Grantline! We're safe, Anita, my darling!"
Death had been so close! Those horrible last minutes on the Planetara had shocked us, marked us. We stood trembling. And Grantline and his men came bounding up, weird, inflated figures.
A helmeted figure touched me. I saw through the helmetpane the visage of a stern-faced, square-jawed young man.
"Grantline? Johnny Grantline?"
"Yes," said his voice at my ear-grid. "I'm Grantline. You're Haljan? Gregg Haljan?"
They crowded around us. Gripped us, to hear our explanations.