Phillias Brownell was a tough little character. He still breathed with
difficulty as Janus unstrapped him from the pneumatic seat, and his
face was ashen; but he hoisted himself up to his full stature of five
feet five and his gray hair bristled. He went to work over the control
console, jabbing hard at gleaming buttons and adjusting the complex
set-up. By now Jupiter was fast fading in the darkness behind them.
"All right," he announced finally, "we're on robot control. We can rest
easy for a while." He sneered in the direction of Jupiter. "We showed
'em some speed, eh? So they want my Frequency Tuner, do they? Let them
come and get it! The dolts, the moronic interfering meddlers!"
Janus plainly showed his relief, as he winked at Mark, who said, "That
was some chance you took. Suppose it hadn't worked?"
"But it did work! That was the final test, and it was necessary. I had
to know how it would react against the beams."
Mark ventured a question. "Frequency Tuner? Is that what gave you the
acceleration? I knew it wasn't rocket power!"