Teejay paused to light a cigarette, then crushed it out after her first puff. "The darn smoke gets in my way when I try to think," she smiled, and went on, "Anyway, here's the square. We'll be using the crew and the expedition—everyone aboard ship—because we're in a hurry. Simply put, we'll be a bunch of beaters to drive the anthrovacs together at the center of the square. Then, well, then it's up to Mr. Simonson and Stedman. Any questions?"
"Yes, Captain," said LeClarc. "Just how do we get the anthrovacs aboard ship?"
"Don't ask me. But you might ask Mr. Simonson."
The bushy-haired man named Simonson grunted. "Umm-mm. There are several ways. We could set up elaborate traps, such as Thorndyke employed two years ago, and—"
"Can't," Teejay objected. "No time."
"Why don't we just clobber them?" LeClarc suggested. "A few might die, but we'll get the specimens we want."
Steve shook his head. "You don't know your anthrovacs. Chase them and they'll try to run away. But hurt them—just hurt one of them so the rest of them can see—and they'll swarm all over you until either all the men or all the anthrovacs are dead, or both. No, there's another way."
"What's that?" Teejay leaned forward, chin cupped in hands, definitely interested.
"Anthrovacs are non-breathers. Most gasses won't hurt them, but you can give them a good, old-fashioned oxygen jag with the slightest whiff of pure oxygen."
"I've heard of that," Simonson said.