“You know she did,” Bud retorted. “When I phoned, she told me you were sending her and Phyl out of town on business. What gives, pal?”
Tom’s eyes twinkled. “She’s carrying out a special assignment for me, fly-boy. I’m afraid that’s all I care to tell you right now.”
Work proceeded on schedule and by two o’clock Monday afternoon Tom, Mr.
Swift, and Dr. Grimsey were engaged in the final assembly of the four probe robots. Bud and Chow watched with big eyes and broad grins as the TV camera gear was installed in the robots’ heads, which were then assembled to the bodies after an inner ganglia of wires and cables had been connected.
“Brand my gingerbread!” Chow exclaimed. “Them critters look like reg’lar lil Martians!”
The robots, built of gleaming magnesium alloy, were four feet tall. Television and radio antennas sprouted from their round buglike heads. Their arms and legs-curved metal tubes-were attached to cylindrical bodies.
“How’ll they get around?” Bud queried.
“They’ll be radio-controlled from earth,” Tom explained, “and ion-driven. You see, each one is really a tiny spaceship. They’ll take off from the mother rocket after it goes into orbit.
“The ion drive,” Tom went on, “jets from.
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their arms and legs, so by moving the limbs, the controller can maneuver the robots in any direction. They’ll approach the Orb under their own power for close reconnaissance.”
“Won’t these lil hombres land?” Chow asked.
“Sure, if it looks safe to do so,” Tom said. “They’re gyro-balanced so they can walk around.”
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