Rapidly like the swinging of the pendulum of a very tiny wall clock, on, off, on, off, on, off, on—
No meters were necessary to check this failure; it was as obviously bad as a flat tire.
Steve turned the gear off and faced Morehouse. He waited, for it was so obvious that he needed to make no explanation. Morehouse wanted something—
"Hagen, that was in the ship we just saved."
"That way?" asked Steve incredulously.
"That way."
"That should have been planeted."
"We agree."
"It's criminal."