There was a creak that rang throughout the ship. A tiny cricket-voice that came once and changed nothing but to increase the feel of tenseness.
Then—nothing pertinent.
Except—
"Great Scott! Look at Sol!"
The already-tiny sun was dwindling visibly; it took less than three or four seconds for Sol's disk to diminish from visible to complete ambiguity against the curtain of the stars.
"We're in!" exploded Barden.
"Hey!" screamed a watcher at the side port. A flare whisked by, illuminating the scene like a photo-flash bulb. A second sun, passed at planetary distance. It joined the starry background behind.
Barden shut off the drive and the tense feeling stopped.
"Well, we're in!" he said in elation. "We're in!"
The scanning room went wild. They gave voice to their feelings in a yell of sheer exuberance and then started pounding one another on the back. Barden chinned himself on a cross-brace and then grabbed Edith Ward about the waist and danced her in a whirling step across the floor. The crew caught up with them; separating them. They piled into Barden, ruffling his hair and rough-housing him until he went off his feet, after which someone produced a blanket and tossed him until the blanket ripped across. Then they carried him to the desk and set him unceremoniously across it, face down, and left him there to catch his breath.