Doc gaped at the door of the air-lock for a second, then shrugged and started closing switches. If the hottest spaceman of Explocenter said "try" ... well, what could you lose?
Jon's voice came in over the speaker again. "Booger! Booger, you big lump, come here. Doc, I'm cutting off trans for a minute, it seems to work better when I think it to him."
The seconds ticked off into minutes, and the READY light was full green. Doc's hand trembled a bit on the firing levers, and he checked the restrainers in his shock-chair for the third time.
Thirty seconds dragged by, and sweat budded on his forehead. "What in Helios is he ..." he muttered, and then the speaker crackled with the one word: "NOW!"
Doc slammed the firing levers home, and instantly was driven deep into his shock-chair. Blackness washed out his trailing thought, Leaping Luna, what is this doing to Jon? There is no shock-pad in the air-lock.
It did plenty. It took all of Doc's skill and three weeks at Venusenter before the brash spaceman was clamoring for active duty.
"You see, Doc," he answered the question, "Booger and the rest were telepathic—one way at least. I had him gather about fifty of them, so if one or two quit on the job, it wouldn't make too much difference. Then I had them extrude themselves into cables clear over the horizon. I had them hook their ... well, tail ends onto the fins of the ship. Then I gave them the word to get over the hill—fast. With our power, and their catapult action, it worked just like a Plutonian Cradle. Gave us that extra boost we needed."
"But what was their incentive?" inquired Doc. "What made them take your orders?"
Jon grinned broadly. "They ain't very smart. And life there is pretty monotonous. It tickled them to have some one give them something to do. Besides that, just before I passed the word to Booger, I commissioned him Commander-in-Chief of Drake's Irregulars. Authority-crazy, that Booger."