Dusty looked at Gant Nerley blankly. "You realize what you're asking? That within a matter of hours we must set up a land-scouring search and completely cover the entire earth? I haven't even got the foggiest notion of how many million square miles of earth there are, let alone the ocean-bottom which we couldn't even touch, lacking the equipment." "They wouldn't plant it on a sea bottom." "No? Look, Gant, remember that they're planning on keeping this thing running for a thousand years. They'll have to hide it good." Gant shook his head with a wan smile. "Not at all. You forget that so far as anybody within the barytrine field is likely to see it, the total time will be from right now until the field goes on in a few hours. Then the enclosure-time will elapse instantaneously for those within. Anybody who finds it once the job goes on will find it after you have been freed of the field. The chances are high that they've dropped it in some comfortable climate, possibly near a large city, just as Scyth Radnor did." Dusty eyed Gant sourly. "For the same purpose?" he asked. "Probably. After all, Dusty--" Gant let the statement hang, suggesting silently that Dusty was the kind of human who would think of the same thing and act on it. "So you must issue orders to your Patrol--" Dusty grunted. His Patrol? Discredited, his position shot to bits, his public appeal running somewhere near absolute zero, who would even listen to him? His former admirers had shucked their Space Patrol clothing for the costume of Jack Vandal, Space Rover. Then he sat up with a puzzled smile. "You have an idea?" "I hope so." "And--?" Dusty smiled wistfully. "From the time Scyth Radnor opened his spacelock and blasted off the end of my antenna, I've been running a losing battle," he said. "I've been playing a game far over my head; outpointed, overbid, overdrawn and sinking. About the only reason I'm still here fighting is that some of the rules of this cockeyed game seem to fall into my own act. Yes, dammit, I've got an idea. Can I call the orders, Gant?" "Take over, Dusty." Dusty turned to the pilot. "When we get there," he said, "Circle the planet several times as fast and as low as you can. Create a stir. Radiate like mad, anything you can radiate. Call attention to us in a bold fashion and show 'em that what we've got is big, important and powerful." Then to Gant Nerley he put the question, "You wouldn't have anything as primitive as a radio set aboard, would you?" "You mean a radiomagnetic communication device? Well, not for communications but we do have a small receiver for detecting the lower-radiation stars and one for scanning planetary systems for primitive cultures. What did you have in mind?" Dusty looked Gant in the eye. "I want to broadcast orders to my Patrol." "Oh. An excellent idea. We'll save time that way. The scanner-type radiomagnetic wave equipment is two-way and connected to a menslator for contacting primitive peoples, you know, and--"