"Let's get out of here fast," I said. "We've probably set off an alarm already."
As if in answer, a low chime cut across our talk. Pearly light sprang up on a square panel. Foster and I stared at it.
"What do you make of it?" he said.
"I'm no expert on stone-age relics," I said. "But if that's not a radar screen, I'll eat it."
I sat down in the single chair before the dusty control console, and watched a red blip creep across the screen.
"That blip is either a mighty slow airplane—or it's at one hell of an altitude." I sat upright, eyes on the screen. "Look at this, Foster," I snapped. A pattern of dots flashed across the screen, faded, flashed again....
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