Morrison passed the word to the bombardier. The city, with the
sea beyond it now, came rushing at them, and von Schlichten, standing
at the front of the bridge, discovered that he had his arm around
Paula's waist and was holding her a little more closely than was
military. He made no attempt to release her, however.
"There's nothing to worry about, really," he was assuring her.
"Pickering's boys built this thing according to the best principles of
engineering, and the stuff they got out of that big-economy-size
shilling-shocker all checked mathematically...."
The red light on the bridge flashed, and the intercom shouted "_Bomb
off!_" He forced Paula down on the bridge deck and crouched beside
her.
"Cover your eyes," he warned. "You remember what the flash was like in
the screen, when the _Jon Smuts_ blew up. And we didn't get the worst
of it; the pickup on the _Gaucho_ was knocked out too soon."
He kept on lecturing her about gamma-rays and ultraviolet rays and
X-rays and cosmic rays, trying to keep making some sort of intelligent
sounds while they clung together and waited, and, with the other half
of his mind, trying not to think of everything that could go wrong
with that jerry-built improvisation they had just dumped onto Keegark.
If it didn't blow, and the geeks found it, they'd know that another
one would be along shortly, and....
* * * * *
An invisible hand caught the gun-cutter and hurled her end-over-end,
sending von Schlichten and Paula sprawling at full length on the deck,
still clinging to one another.
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