"Since this is my ship and I'm flying it I'm aware of that," Mikah said. "Get on with your proof."
"Bear with me," Jason told him. "I'll try and keep it simple. Now the red dot on the green line is our ship's position. The number above the screen our next navigational point, the spot where a star's gravitational field it strong enough to be detected in jump space. The number is the star's code listing. DB89-046-229. I'll look it up in the book"—he quickly flipped the pages—"and find its listing. No name. A row of code symbols though that tell a lot about it. This little symbol means that there is a planet or planets suitable for man to live on. Doesn't say if any people are there though."
"Where does this all lead to?" Mikah interrupted.
"Patience—you'll see in a moment. Now look, at the screen. The green dot approaching on the course line is the PMP. Point of Maximum Proximity. When the red dot and green dot coincide...."
"Give me that book," Mikah ordered, stepping forward. Aware suddenly that something was wrong. He was just an instant too late.
"Here's your proof," Jason said, and hurled the heavy book through the jump screen into the delicate circuits behind. Before it hit he had thrown the second book. There was a tinkling crash, a flare of light and the crackle of shorted circuits.
The floor gave a tremendous heave as the relays snapped open, dropping the ship through into normal space.
Mikah grunted in pain, clubbed to the floor by the suddenness of the transition. Locked into the chair, Jason fought the heaving of his stomach and the blackness before his eyes. As Mikah dragged himself to his feet, Jason took careful aim and sent the tray and dishes hurtling into the smoking ruin of the jump computer.
"There's your fact," he said in cheerful triumph. "Your incontrovertible, gold-plated, uranium-cored fact.
"We're not going to Cassylia any more!"