Biggs was in a frightful mess, trying to throw grapples around the jars.
I told him, "You'd better get a wiggle on, Biggs. We hit the tropo tomorrow. If those things get into the atmosphere, you'll be able to pour them into the airlock."
"I know," he said abstractedly, "but I'm not quite ready to—Sparks, according to that book you lent me, cosmic rays go down to 1/100,000 Ângstrom units."
"That's right," I told him.
"That means they are more than ten times as intense as gamma rays."
"Right again. Why? What's the pay-off?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out," he said strangely. He finished tying a loop around one of the jars; pushed himself free and toward the airlock.