"Where's the ship-conveyer?" he asked.

"Actually it's on antigrav about five miles north of here," one of the
girls said. "Representationally, about where Subchief Ranthar's
standing."

Another girl added a few more bits to the network that represented the
sleep-gas bombs and stepped back, taking off her earphones.

"Everything's in place, now, Assistant Verkan," she told him.

"Good. I'm going aboard, now," he said. "You can have it, Jard."

He shook hands with Ranthar Jard, who moved to the switch which would
activate all the conveyers simultaneously, and accepted the good
wishes of the girls at the terrain board. Then he walked to the
mesh-covered dome of the hundred-foot conveyer, with the five news
service conveyers surrounding it in as regular a circle as the
buildings and towers of the regular conveyer heads would permit. The
members of his own detail, smoking and chatting outside, saw him and
started moving inside; so did the news people. A public-address
speaker began yelping, in a hundred voices all over the area, warning
those who were going with the conveyers to get aboard. He went in
through a door, between two aircars, and on to the central
control-desks, going up to a visiscreen over which somebody had
crayoned "Novilan EQ." It gave him a view, over the shoulder of a man
in the uniform of a field agent third class, of the interior of a
conveyer like his own.

* * * * *