"And—" He shrugged—"it worked. That's all."
"Hugh," said Gary, "you're terrific."
"Me? No, just plain lucky. I was only playing a hunch. But I figured we had everything to gain and nothing to lose."
"He's a violet," snorted O'Day. "A modest, shrinking violet. Stop playing coy, skipper. That was one of the neatest bits of mental astrogation I've ever seen."
Warren said uncomfortably, "Comets to you, sailor. You could have done the same thing yourself."
"Sure. If I'd thought of it."
"Anyone who can handle a spaceship like you can—"
"In," acknowledged Lark O'Day, "my own back yard; our own little solar system. But when it comes to figuring intergalactic calculus with a quadridimensional drive as a factor—" He shook his head admiringly—"you're the boy for my money."
Muldoon's fingers were itching on the butt of the Haemholtz. He glanced at the silent Borisu, then longingly at his weapon.