"Walls," he said idly. "Walls of twisting, gyrating death. I wonder what really happens when a ship hits them?"
He was talking half to himself, but Graham shuddered. Blair Freedman needed a rest, he decided. Needed to straighten himself out with the world.
"You'd be torn to dust in ten seconds," he said. "That is, if you weren't riding in the Cutter."
The Cutter was the huge ship designed by Planet Control, to keep the asteroid tunnel open.
Freedman nodded.
"And that's another thing I've got on my mind."
Graham wanted him to talk, until all the bitterness was out of him.
"What's another thing?"
They were deep in the tunnel now. Graham's eyes checked the mileage. Fifteen miles in. Ten minutes before they would see light again.
Blair Freedman said, "I'm damned tired of running that ploughhorse. Pete Folley's got to get another man for the job. I'm quitting."