And on the floor, human in shape only, lay what had once been Berin Klythe.
The mobiles went to work to take care of the glowing hulk of the ruined generator.
Crayley looked at the safety engineer. "There's not much I can do down here," he said. "You take care of the bodies, will you?"
Lesker nodded. He seemed suddenly to realize that he was speaking to the new Director. "You can shuck your suit in the next section. I'll let you know how things are going."
Crayley felt quite light-hearted by the time he reached the upper levels again. In fact, he was almost ready to sing. It had been so easy, so simple! They had called Berin Klythe a genius and given him a chance at the Big Gamble; well, let them see who was the genius now! The plan itself had been a stroke of genius.
There was only one thing left to do; slip into the control room and erase the tail end of that tape. The explosion would go down as "unexplained." Berin Klythe had died in an industrial accident—and Lewis Crayley would replace him.
When he opened the control room door, only his mask of a face saved him. The room was full of men.
"What's going on here?" he asked softly.
One of the younger engineers turned toward him. "These men say they're going to confiscate the tape, Mr. Crayley." He waved in the direction of the uniformed Space Force men.