Blane had only a few words with the pilot, but he gathered the ship would be standing by to take Devlin off again at some undecided later time.
General Devlin came into the office with brisk, precise steps, and stood looking at Blane with a perfect picture of a military man regarding an inferior. His short body was as straight as a rod, and his head was at precisely the right posture. But his face looked grey, and a muscle under one eye twitched. He motioned sharply as Blane stood up to relinquish the seat behind the desk.
"At ease. Stay where you are. I've been cramped in a hammock for hours, I prefer to stand. I'm not taking over your command this time, anyhow. I'm merely here to execute one order before I have to report back down there. How's the trouble here?"
He listened to Blane's report, but hardly seemed to hear it. He was apparently fully aware of everything that Blane could tell him. When it was done, he nodded. "I was told to fill you in. I'll make it brief. Dr. Peal's theory that ultra hard radiation has caused the transmutation of some of the uranium to a more dangerous isotope is correct. This effects the same results as raising the mass of each segment of the uranium trigger to critical level eventually. But there is still time to save the station, and the level of radiation will not make it dangerous for the squad to handle the missiles; they will be exposed too short a time. I would appreciate it if you would instruct Captain Manners and his men to assemble in the hub in fifteen minutes. I'll join you there."
It wasn't a lot to work on, Blane decided. But he nodded as Devlin went out, pacing toward the coffee in the rec hall. He put through the orders and shortly moved out to join the eight men and Manners. In the hub were stacked a number of boxes. He counted them, and nodded. There was one for each of the missiles.
"Looks like we dump the missiles," Manners suggested, relief heavy in his voice. "Those must be program tapes for the guidance computers on the missiles."
Devlin's voice sounded sharply behind them, bringing them to attention. If he had heard Manners, he gave no sign of it.
"In those boxes are tapes for the missiles. You are all familiar with their installation and the operation of loading the missiles into the outer chutes. Each of you will take one pile of the tapes and repair to the bomb bay. You are to enter there at precisely nine hundred. The bay is hot, but not dangerous for the length of time required to complete this operation. Captain, how long should the operation of moving all bombs into chutes require?"
"About twenty minutes, sir." There were motorized winches that did the work, and the chutes were one of the few pieces of mechanism on the Goddard that had not been made shoddily.