Ross's sense of direction was fairly acute, but he could not have gone
so unerringly to what he sought as Ashe did. Only he did not lead them
to the room with the glowing plate, and Ross stifled a protest as they
came instead to a small record room.
On a table were three spools of tape which Ashe caught up avidly,
thrusting two in the front of his baggy tunic, passing the third to
McNeil. Then he sped about trying the cupboards on the walls, but all
were locked. His hand falling from the last latch, Ashe came back to the
door where Ross waited.
"To the plate!" Ross urged.
Ashe surveyed the cupboards once more regretfully. "If we could have
just ten minutes here----"
McNeil snorted. "Listen, you may yearn to be the filling in an ice
sandwich, but I don't! Another shock and we'll be buried so deep even a
drill couldn't find us. Let's get out now. The kid is right about
that--if we still can."
Once more Ashe took the lead and they wove through ghostly rooms to what
must have been the heart of the post--the transfer point.
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