"What kind of stuff do you expect?" asked Arden. "I dunno. They might have a betatron aboard. In that case we'll eventually get a blast of electrons that'll knock our front teeth out. Don may succeed in tinkering up some sort of electrostatic field. We can check the solar electrostatic field to about seven decimal places right here, and any deviation in the field to the tune of a couple of million electron volts at a distance of a hundred million miles will cause a distortion in the field that we can measure. We'll ply oscillating beams through the area of expectation and hope for an answering reflection, though I do not hope for that. We'll have men on the lookout for everything from smoke signals to helio. Don't worry too much, Arden, your husband is capable of doing something big enough to be heard. He's just the guy to do it." "I know," said Arden soberly. "But I can't help worrying." "Me, too. Well, I'm off to set up detectors. We'll collect something." * * * * * "Have we got anything like a piece of gold leaf?" asked Channing. "I think so, why?" "I want to make an electroscope. That's about the only way I'll know whether we are getting out with this cockeyed electron gun." "How so?" asked Hadley. "We can tell from the meter that reads the beam current whether anything is going up the pipe," explained Channing. "But if we just build us up a nice heavy duty charge--as shown by the electroscope--we'll be sure that the electrons are not going far. This is one case where no sign is good news." "I'll have one of the boys set up an electroscope in the instrument room." "Good. And now have the bird on the telescope forget trying to find Venus Equilateral by dead reckoning and sight. Have him set the scope angles to the figures here, and then have him contact Darlange and have the ship slued around so that Venus is on the cross hairs. That'll put us on a line for the Station by a few thousand miles. We can afford to miss. A bundle of electrons of our magnitude zipping past the detectors that Walt can set up will make a reading." Hadley called the observation dome. "Tim," he said, giving a string of figures, "set your 'scope for these and then get Darlange to slue the crate around so that your cross hairs are on Venus." "O.K.," answered Tim. "That's going to be a job. This business of looking through a 'scope while dressed in a spacesuit is no fun. Here goes." He called Darlange, and the communicator system permitted the men in the instrument room to hear his voice. "Dar," he said, "loop us around about forty-one degrees from Driver 3." Darlange said: "Right!" and busied himself at his buttons. "Three degrees on Driver 4." "Right." "Too far, back her up a degree on 4." Darlange laughed. "What do you think these things are, blocks and tackles? You mean: 'Compensate a degree on 2.'"