"I think the world and all of both Jenna and Ralph, and feel that I may have caused suspicion and unhappiness there. Since I'll have time to take a good look at this thing and also make some motions toward defusing it long before you arrive, or even find this, let my success be a certain statement of the fact that knowledge of my actions by any of you—or even suspicion cast at the presence of the Decontamination Squadron Ship by the enemy—is not the contributing cause. No one will know until I'm all fin—"
Light filled the scanning room, and the ship rocked as it was buffeted by the blast. The light and the heat and the sound tore at them, and they clung to the stanchions on the scanning room until the ship stopped rocking and then Grant made a quick dash for the autopilot, which was chattering wildly under the impact of atomic by-products. It stabilized itself, however, and the ship continued on down through the billowing dust to the ground.
"That," growled Lindsay, "loses us Lacy and proves nothing."
"Not entirely," drawled Grant. "It does prove that whatever agency is directing these things does not require the presence of this ship as a tip-off."
"A lot of help that is."
"Well, I'm nominated for the next try. Unanimously. I'm the only one voting any more."
Jenna gasped.
"What's the matter, Jenna?" asked Grant.
"I just realized that you were all that's left. Just like that—and in a few hours. Poor Lacy."
"Lacy?" said Grant. "He—got his release. It's what he's wanted. May we all find what we want as quickly."