At the south end landing stage, a group of men were busy stocking a ship. Supplies and necessities were carried aboard, while another group of men tinkered with the electrical equipment. They cleared a big space in the observation dome, and began to install a replica of the equipment used on the station for detection. No matter what kind of output Channing sent back, they would be able to follow it to the bitter end. They made their installations in duplicate, with one piece of each equipment on opposite sides of the blunt dome. Balancing the inputs of each kind by turning the entire ship would give them an indication of direction. Franks did not hope that the entire installation could be completed before the signal came, but he was trying to outguess himself by putting some of everything aboard. When and if it came, he would be either completely ready with everything or he at least would have a good start on any one of the number of detectors. If need be, the detecting equipment in the station itself could be removed and used to complete the mobile installation. Everything was in a complete state of nervous expectancy. Watchers watched, meter readers squinted for the barest wiggle, audio observers listened, trying to filter any kind of man-made note out of the irregular crackle that came in. And the station announcing equipment was dead quiet, to be used only in case of emergency or to announce the first glimmer of radiation, whether it be material, electrical, kinetic, potential, or wave front. Long they listened--and then it came. The station announcing equipment broke forth in a multitude of voices. "Sound input on radio!" "Visual indication on scanner plates!" "Distortion on electrostatic field indicator!" "Super-electroscopes indicate negative charge!" "Nothing on the telescope!" There were mingled cheers and laughter as the speaker system broke away from babel, and each group spoke its piece with no interference. Walt Franks left the ship at the south end and raced to the beam control dome, just as fast as the runway car would take him. He ran into the dome in spacesuit and flipped the helmet back over his shoulder, "What kind of indication?" he yelled. Men crowded around him, offering him papers and showing figures. "Gosh," he said, "Don can't have everything going up there." "He's hit just about everything but the guy squinting through the 'scope." "What's he doing?" asked Franks of nobody in particular. Charles Thomas, who had been busy with the electrostatic field indicator said: "I think maybe he's using some sort of electron gun--like the one you tried first off on the meteor destroyer job, remember?" "Yeah, but that one wouldn't work--unless Don has succeeded in doing something we couldn't do. Look, Chuck, we haven't had time to set up a complete field indicator on the ship--grab yours and give the boys a lift installing it, hey?" "Sure thing," said Thomas.