Gant took a deep breath.
Minutes later a small scooter hauled alongside and a Marandanian pilot
came aboard and took over. He smiled at Dusty and said, "I'm Nort
Wilgas, Pilot."
"Glad to have you aboard," smiled Dusty. It all sounded very familiar;
The Space Patrol had borrowed liberally from the clichés of naval
procedure and courtesy and he had been through these lines at least
once in every picture. "I'm Dusty Britton." Then he remembered the role
he was trying to play and added, "Of The Terran Space Patrol."
"Have a good passage?" asked Nort Wilgas.
"Yes. A bit tiring. After all, I've never driven a galactic spacecraft
before. Frankly, I'm about flat on my face."
The Marandanian pilot looked into Dusty's face with a perplexed frown.
"You know," he said, "It's just occurred to me--you drove this thing
all the way on duty!"
"Yes."
"Twenty-three hours!"
Dusty suddenly felt tired. He had been too busy with the board to think
of it before. He had been running on nervous energy, but now it had
about run out. Dusty had been this way before; so long as there was
something that had to be done he had done it, but once the need was
over, he invariably came unglued and slept the clock around.
"Yes," he said. "I had to."
"Man! What stamina!"
Dusty yawned and came unglued on the divan opposite the one that Scyth
Radnor occupied. Nort Wilgas nodded at him and then turned to Barbara.
"You can relax too. I'll take over."
Dusty Britton was fast asleep when the spacecraft made its landing on
Marandis.