"A mile here, a couple of miles there. I really haven't figured that aspect yet."
"Well, figure it." The commander jumped down from the observation seat. "Get George, the psychologist, he types fast. Compile what data you have, have him type it, send it down to me. I'll be in my quarters. And hurry, man, or they'll be more than stars dead around here."
He slammed open the entrance panel to the observatory. By that time he had cooled enough to pause and throw Dave a half-smile and limp salute.
"Thanks for the wide-awake work. Now, get busy."
His watch showed he had been drowsing for more than an hour. The pictures had exhausted themselves, and his head felt clearer. He had needed that rest badly.
Sitting up, he reached into the bunk cupboard and poured a drink. Now that Bleck was temporarily emotionally neutralized and the brains uncertain, it was time to follow up with a little rationality to substantiate his position. Anyway, he wanted verification and cross-checking of his plans. He could be way off base.
Over the ship's speaker system he summoned Merrick, Eastburn, and Hollender to his quarters. They arrived promptly, almost too promptly, as if they had been waiting. It was probably obvious to them, as it was to him, the problem called for more than one man's calculation.
Nothing was said while he splashed out drinks. The men spread over the floor where they could find room and left him the bunk. They were evidently going to let him say something first, so he didn't disappoint them.
"I don't think I'm surprising any of you when I say we're pushing through the clusters, regardless of Bleck's nerves," he began. "What's probably on your mind is my motive. You may understandably feel Bleck, no matter how badly he expressed his point of view, may have something. Sure, maybe my pride is driving me ahead. Maybe I'm being as emotional in wanting to buck the clusters as Bleck is in wanting to run.