The crewmen appeared in the rear of the control room. Hesitantly, they
approached the massive, semicircular control panel with its hundred
flashing red and blue lights.
Fox was in the lead.
"Captain," the small-boned, brown-bearded radarman said solemnly, "can
we take a look before we belt down?"
"A short one."
The men looked.
Fox seemed ready to kiss the image of the planet. Van Gundy, wide-eyed,
trembled before it as if at any instant it might destroy him. Garcia,
the swarthy engineer, glowered at it as though threatening to crush it
like an eggshell.
"I want Kelly to see this," said Fox. He hurried aft, nervously
stroking his beard.
An instant later he returned, leading the former radioman by the hand.
Kelly's soft blue eyes stared vacantly out of a pink, cherubic face. He
was as plump as a dumpling, and his hair was as red as prairie fire.
His short body moved woodenly.
"Come on, Kelly," said Fox. "You got to see this. Nobody's going to
stop you from seeing this, by God."
The fire-haired man stood before the magni-screen.