"Ten thousand scientists have been working ever since Nineteen-forty-five to find a way to use common elements instead of uranium in a pile!" he choked. "They can't do it. But two drunken Proxy men are going to try it!"
Norris hardly heard that stream of agonized accusation and entreaty, as he helped Kincaid shift in the empty lattices. He was mildly sorry that Petersen felt so disturbed. There was no reason for it. He and Kincaid knew just what they were doing.
Or did they? For a moment, a dim doubt crossed Norris' foggy mind. After all, he and Kincaid weren't physicists. Then he dismissed that doubt. He was sure of what they were doing, wasn't he?
Kincaid sat down unsteadily when they had the lattices changed.
"I feel a li'l shaky. 'S emotional reaction from great scientific achievement."
"Emotional reaction nothing—you're so plastered you're nearly out!" raged Petersen.
Kincaid dignifiedly ignored that. "Switch on the loader and shoot the ol' bismuth in there, Doug."
"Norris, don't do it!" begged Petersen hoarsely. "It means wrecking the pile, and maybe blowing up the whole Station!"
Again, Doug Norris' dim doubt bothered him. But then again he dismissed it. Everything was so beautifully clear in his mind. It had to work.
He switched on the loader. The lead cylinder of bismuth slid away into the tube that would carry it to the pile, where it would be automatically loaded into the new empty lattices.