It was obvious that the Sorodromes had almost perfect control over the captain and the crew.
They moved down the ramps. Members of the crew met them, saluted, continued with their duties. Men from the station were carrying supplies into the huge ship. They approached the main lock.
Craig Randall felt his flesh crawl as he saw the section of the wall that hid Filo of the Sorodromes. What if Filo was watching them? Craig kept his eyes fixed on the opposite wall. He was walking like a man in a trance himself, and he knew it. He held his breath, waiting for the challenge of the voice from the air. It did not come. They passed the hidden alcove; they passed through the lock; they were on the ramp outside. Craig's suddenly furious breathing shook his lean frame to the bones.
The bustle of the hangar was around them.
"Where will I get clearance?" Captain Martin muttered.
"Over there," Craig said, pointing.
They moved down the ramp. Craig stopped breathing again as a voice from the ship's intercom system shouted from the lock behind them.
"ATTENTION, ALL HANDS."
The voice was an excellent imitation of Captain Martin. It spoke with crisp authority and with sureness. It was a commanding voice. It caught the attention of its hearers.
Captain Martin seemed to freeze on the ramp. Suddenly sensing what was about to happen, Craig Randall also froze. The voice came again.