"We'll be modifying the payload," he announced, turning to the keyboard. “Therefore the weight will be different, so we'll have to factor that into the SORT program on the Fujitsu and run it again."
Shit, LeFarge thought, he knows about SORT. Which probably means he knows everything he needs to make VX-1
9:45 p.m.
"I have a question," Michael Vance was saying. They were still resting on the hill, and he felt himself fighting back waves of exhaustion. "Could they get that vehicle down there off the ground without you being in Command?"
"I hate to admit it"—Calypso Andros exhaled ruefully and leaned back against the tree—"but they probably could. We've already had a final test of the power-up, everything. The Fujitsu has all the controls set. There's nothing left to do except initiate the launch routine and then let the computer take over."
"So Bill was about to be rich." He grinned, then picked up a small white stone and flung it down the hill. "He might even have been able to pay off our bet. If I'd won."
"What bet was that?"
"Long ago and in another country." He shrugged, hardly caring anymore. "It was a damned stupid stunt. We had a sailor's bet, and I lost. As it happens, your new guests here pitched in to help. But those are the breaks."