"I ... I would vote to accept them, Captain. But that weight! One hundred twenty thousand metric tons—incredible! Are you sure of that figure?"
"Definitely. And that is minimum. The error is plus, not minus."
"This crippling power-shortage would really be over?" For the first time since Sawtelle had known him, Gordon showed that he was not quite solid Navy brass.
"It's over. Definitely. For good."
"I'd not only agree; I'd raise you a monument. While I can't speak for the Board, I'm sure they'll agree."
"So am I. In any event, your cooperation is all that's required for this first load." The chips had vanished from Sawtelle's shoulders. "Where do you want it, Admiral? Aristarchus or White Sands?"
"White Sands, please. While there may be some delay in releasing it to industry ..."
"While they figure out how much they can tax it?" Sawtelle asked, sardonically.
"Well, if they don't tax it it'll be the first thing in history that isn't. Have you any objections to releasing all this to the press?"
"None at all. The harder they hit it and the wider they spread it, the better. Will you have this beam switched to Astrogation, please?"