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"Shall I try the radio now, Doc?" Deston asked. "By no means. This first blast would, of course, be the worst, but there will be several more, of decreasing violence." There were. The second, while it volatilized the boom and its grounding network, merely fused portions of the anchorages. The third took only the boom itself; the fourth took only the dangling miles of wire.
That was when I read your name in the list of officers on the board. First Officer, Carlyle Deston. I got a tingle that went from the tips of my toes up and out through the very ends of my hair. Nothing like when we actually saw each other, of course. We both knew the truth, then. It's wonderful that you're so strongly psychic, too." "I don't know about that," he said, thoughtfully.
"We've got dozens of coils of hook-up wire," Deston said, "but not too many miles and it's soft stuff." "Graham wire!" Jones snapped his finger. "Of course," Deston agreed. "Hundreds of miles of it. Float the senser down on a Hotchkiss " "Tear-out." Jones objected. "Bailey it spidered out to twenty or so big, flat feet.
So I don't have anything to worry about, do I?" She lifted her lips to be kissed; and the kiss was long and sweet. Time flew past until, one day a couple of weeks short of arrival, Adams rushed up to Deston and Jones. "I have it!" he shouted, and began to spout a torrent of higher very much higher mathematics. "Hold it, Doc!" Deston held up an expostulatory hand. "I read you zero and ten.
That was that. From now until Emergence unless something happened he might as well be a passenger. Everything was automatic, unless and until some robot or computer yelled for help. Deston leaned back in his bucket seat and lighted a cigarette. He didn't need to scan the board constantly now; any trouble signal would jump right out at him.
You see, those two observations of fact invalidate twenty-four of the thirty-eight best theories of hyper-space. But tell me am I correct in saying that none of you were in direct contact with the metal of the ship when it happened?" "We avoid it in case of trouble. You? Name and job?" Deston jerked his head at the younger stranger. "I know that much. Henry Newman.
You were X-ray-eying it and fine-toothing it for improvements made since your last trip, and storing the details away in your eidetic memory." "Not eidetic, by any means. Merely very good." "And how many metric tons of apparatus have you got in the hold?" Deston asked. "Less than six. Just what I must have in order to " "Babe!" Jones' voice cut in. "Course change. Stay on alpha eighteen.
It was a very good thing that Deston had had ample warning, for he was indeed competing out of his class. As it was, his bullet crashed through Blaine's head, while the gunman's went harmlessly into the carpet. The other pistol duel wasn't even close! Lopresto's hand barely touched his gun.
Thus, certain determinants, notably the all-important delta-prime-sub-mu, become manipulable by ... but you aren't listening!" "I'm listening, pops, but nothing is coming through. But thanks much, anyway. I feel a lot better, knowing I'm not going to give birth to a monster. Or are you sure, really?" "Of course I'm sure!" Adams snapped, testily, and Barbara led Deston aside.
I'll buy that, but there wouldn't be enough plunder to " "Just a sec. So he's a pretty good rule-of-thumb astrogator, too, and we're computing every element of the flight. As for motive salvage. With either of us alive, none. With both of us dead, can you guess within ten million bucks of how much they'll collect?" "Blockhead!" Deston slapped himself on the forehead.
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