Thirty hours out of Mars for Terra, the _Ariadne_ sped along her
silent, invisible course. No longer was she completely severed from all
connection with the planets of the inner system; the trick cams that
controlled the beams at Venus Equilateral kept the ship centered by
sheer mathematics in spite of her thirty hours at two G, which brought
her velocity to eleven hundred miles per second.
What made this trip ironic was the fact that Don Channing was aboard.
The beams had been bombarding the _Ariadne_ continually ever since
she left Mars with messages for the Director of Communications. In
one sense, it seemed funny that Channing was for once on the end of a
communications line where people could talk to him but from which he
could not talk back. On the other hand, it was a blessing in disguise,
for the Director of Communications was beginning to paper-talk himself
into some means of contacting Venus Equilateral from a spaceship.
A steward found Channing in the salon and handed him a 'gram. Channing
smiled, and the steward returned the smile and added: "You'll fix these
ships to talk back one day. Wait till you read that one--you'll burn
from here to Terra!"
"Reading my mail?" asked Channing cheerfully. The average spacegram was
about as secret as a postcard, so Channing didn't mind. He turned the
page over and read:
HOPE YOU'RE WELL FILLED WITH GRAVANOL AND ADHESIVE TAPE FOR YOUR
JUMP FROM TERRA TO STATION. SHALL TAKE GREAT DELIGHT IN RIPPING
ADHESIVE TAPE OFF YOUR MEASLY BODY. LOVE.