The space station, its orbit altered, twisted away, a gutted, lifeless derelict.
Walt's shielding collapsed. His mutant bridge opened; his mutant powers vanished. He screamed for help.
He saw General Tibbets slam a pistol butt against Willy's suddenly unprotected skull.
Five minutes later, in the laboratory, amid incredible confusion, Julia stood over Walt and dabbed antiseptic on his cut, swollen lip.
Throughout the room there were shouts and laughter and cries of victory. One of the technicians—one who had worked hardest over it—was joyfully smashing the second signal generator.
In the center of the frenzy, Dr. Norvel sat slumped across the desk. She was sound asleep.
Weary and proud, Julia straightened up from Walt.
"I've—we've both—got to get some rest," she said. "There'll be the press, the TV, the radio.... I can't face them. I'm too tired.... I must look like something the cat dragged in...."
Walt, heavy lidded and exhausted, looked up at her. He smiled leadenly. "Look fine, Julia." His voice was thick and indistinct because of the swelling of his tongue.