"Well—all right. Maybe we're seeing Saturn as a magnified image—through some kind of magnifying space drift. A big, floating lens in space, made up of refractive particles spread out in a cloud. A lens with more magnifying power than the five-hundred inch! It isn't as haywire as it sounds, if that's any comfort to you!"
"But no pilot's ever seen anything like that, Jim!" Pete protested, with unanswerable logic.
He tapped his brow. "It could be in here, Jim! That's what I'm afraid of! A sickness of the mind—"
"Don't start that!" I warned, striking my knee with my fist. "Don't even think it!"
My voice was getting out of control. I was yelling at him, and there was no reason for it.
He had every right to his opinion.
"What are we goin' to do, Jim?"
"Check up first!" I snapped. "If I have to use every instrument on the ship—"
I stopped. The door into the pilot room had opened and closed, and a clumping figure was coming toward us across the deck.