"All-Planetary Twelve calling Venusport. Something went wrong with the radar deflectors. We took a meteor through the control room. Luckily it just clipped us, but it put a ten foot hole in the side. The man on duty got out okay, but we lost all the air in that section. We can't bring her in with that hole in her. We have to have air in the control room, or all the switches arc out. Over."
Outside, the control tower ships were being moved out of the way, back into the hangars and into the pits. Blinker lights and radio landing beams were flickering out "Stay Clear!" warnings to all ships in that segment of space. Joe flipped the stud again.
"Is the hole too big for a plastic patch? Over."
"It's a good ten feet across. We haven't got any patches that big, and even if we did have, they wouldn't do any good. Once we pumped the air back in, the pressure would boot the patch out into space. The only thing that will work is a welding job. Over."
Joe shook his head glumly and flipped the stud.
"We've got enough monalloy here to fix it, but we haven't got a portable welding outfit that could handle the job. Down here we could have it fixed in half an hour. Over."
There was a pause before the voice came back.
"That's a lot of help. Over."
Pop Gillette tugged at Joe's sleeve. Joe started to shake him loose, but stopped when he felt the old man's grip tighten on his arm like a space grapple.