“What’s our next move, skipper?” asked Hank.
Tom turned to Uzcudun. The shepherd was holding his fingers to his temples with a look of glassy-eyed concentration.
“Leave the ship,” Uzcudun said slowly. “You will be directed to the … the thing … the brain … which controls the Green Orb.”
Tom felt a twinge of fear. Was the whole procedure a cunning trap by which the Orb hoped to take him alive-perhaps even snuff out his life once it had him in its power?
Nevertheless, despite a growled protest by
THE SECRET OF THE ORB 173
Chow, Tom decided to go ahead. The loyal cook immediately volunteered to accompany him, as did Bud, Hank Sterling, and Pete Uzcudun. Tom chose Bud and also Uzcudun since he might need the Basque to communicate with the Orb brain. As an afterthought, Tom removed his own neutralizing headgear and so did Bud.
“What’ll we do outside-walk?” Bud inquired.
The young inventor frowned uncertainly. “No-we’ll take a repelatron donkey.”
The Challenger carried several of these “flying carpets.” Tom had invented them for lunar transport work in the race to the moon. They were small, repelatron-powered sleds.
The trio donned space suits and went out through the airlock to the landing deck. Tom saw an undulating motion in the hillocks below. The living polyps glistened with a slimy sheen.
“I’m glad we don’t have to hike through that zoo on foot!” Tom muttered over his suit radio.
“You and I both, pal,” Bud agreed with a shudder of distaste. “Green flesh-ugh!”
They stepped aboard the donkey and took off.
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