Fantastic Voyage - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,24

any rate. It leaves me a bundle of frustration."

Grant thought the obvious answer but didn't say it. I was going to be a strain if he were going to continual refrain from the obvious; more, perhaps, than he would able to bear.

He said, "Whatever your sex, and at this point I'll be careful not to commit myself, you're the calmest person here except for Duval, and I don't think he knows he's here."

"Don't underestimate him, Mr. Grant. He knows he's here, I assure you. If he's calm, it's because he realizes that the importance of this mission is greater than that of his individual life."

"Because of Benes' secret?"

"No. Because this will be the first time miniaturization has been used on this scale; and that it is being used for the purpose of saving life."

Grant said, "Will it be safe to use that laser? After what it nearly did to my finger?"

"In Dr. Duval's hands that laser beam will destroy the clot without disturbing one molecule of the surrounding tissue."

"You have a high estimate of his ability."

"It is the world's estimate. And I share it with reason. I have been with him ever since I got my master's degree."

"I suspect he shows you neither too much condescension nor too much consideration merely because you are a woman."

"No, he doesn't."

She returned to her seat and slipped on her own harness in one fluid motion.

Owens called. "Dr. Michaels, we're waiting."

Michaels, having stepped from his seat and moved slowly about the cabin seemed, for the moment, abstracted and uncertain. Then, looking quickly from one strapped person to another said, "Oh, yes," sat down and adjusted his own harness.

Owens swung down from his bubble, checked each harness quickly, mounted again and put on his own. "Okay, Mr. Grant. Tell them we're ready."

Grant did so and the loudspeaker sounded almost at once:

"ATTENTION, PROTEUS. ATTENTION, PROTIES, THIS IS THE LAST VOICE MESSAGE YOU WILL RECEIVE UNTIL MISSION IS COMPLETED. YOU HAVE SIXTY MINUTES OBJECTIVE TIME. ONCE MINIATURIZATION IS COMPLETE, THE SHIP'S TIME-RECORDER WILL GIVE THE SIXTY READING. YOU ARE AT ALL TIMES TO BE AWARE OF THAT READING, WHICH WILL BE REDUCED ONE UNIT AT A TIME, EACH MINUTE. DO NOT-REPEAT, DO NOT -TRUST YOUR SUBJECTIVE FEELINGS AS TO TIME PASSAGE. YOU MUST BE OUT OF BENES' BODY BEFORE THE READING REACHES ZERO. IF YOU ARE NOT, YOU WILL KILL BENES REGARDLESS OF THE SUCCESS OF THE SURGERY. GOOD LUCK!"

The voice stopped and Grant could find nothing more original with which to encourage his sinking spirits than, "This is it!"

To his own surprise, he found he had said it aloud.

Michaels, next to him, said, "Yes, it is," and managed a s weak smile.

In the observation tower, Carter waited. He caught himself wishing he were in the Proteus, rather than outside it. It would be a difficult hour and it would be easier to be in a position where he would know each moment the events of that moment.

He quivered at the sudden sharp tapping of the wireless message over an open circuit. The aide at the receiving end spoke quietly: "Proteus reports all secured."

Carter called out, "Miniaturizer!"

The proper switch, labelled MIN, at the proper panel was touched by the proper finger of the proper technician. It's like a ballet, thought Carter, with everyone in place and every Motion prescribed, in a dance the end of which none could see.

The touch upon the switch was reflected in the fading to one side of the wall at the end of the miniaturizing room and the revelation, bit by bit, of a huge, honeycombed disc, suspended from a rail running along the ceiling. It moved toward and over the Proteus, making its way silently and without friction on air-jets that kept its suspension arm a tenth of an inch above the railing.

To those inside the Proteus, the geometrically-riddled disc was clearly visible, approaching like a pock-marked monster.

Michaels' forehead and bald head were unpleasantly beaded with perspiration. "That," he said, in a muffled voice, "is the miniaturizer."

Grant opened his mouth, but Michaels added hurriedly, "Don't ask me how it works. Owens knows, but I don't."

Grant cast an involuntary glance up and back toward Owens, who seemed to be tightening and growing rigid. One of his hands was clearly visible and was grasping a bar which, Grant guessed, was one of the ship's more important units of control; grasping it as though the sensation of something material and powerful lent him comfort. Or perhaps the touch of any part of the ship