Farrell winced. _That_ argument was still going on, whether or not you
could square a velocity. "We'll know," he said quietly.
The loudspeaker above Farrell's desk hissed slightly, and the voice
of Freddie Thomas came in: "I'm about to trust my precious life once
more to the tender care of the hare-brained piloting of my semi-idiot
brother. Any last words you'd like to have uttered?"
Wes picked up a microphone and said: "Nothing that will bear
transmission under the rules. If there's anything I want to tell
you, I'll call you on this--and if this doesn't work, we'll try the
standard. They're on your course?"
"On the button all the way--they tell me."
"Well, if you jiggle any, call us," said Farrell, "either on the
standard space phone or this coupled-crystal set-up."