It was!
Minutes after Jonnie opened the courier pouch and got a disk on a viewscreen, he realized that for the first time in all of Psychlo’s long and s******c history, non-Psychlo eyes were looking upon the actual construction of a teleportation transshipment console.
Terl, having no models or patterns, was working from scratch. And crazy though he might be, his workmanship was exact. Of course, his own life depended upon its being so.
He had already made the console case. He had fitted the rows of buttons, spares from the storerooms, all properly marked, into the panel top. He had made the screw holes which held the top on to the bottom case.
Watching the view disks, fascinated, Jonnie saw him take a yard-square piece of common black insulating board, the kind that was used to back a
