"What?"
"By Jove!"
"'By Jove!' What?"
"That's where we'd be—By Jove!"
"Phew."
"I agree with you," said Franklen to Walt. "Better ignore him."
"Sure will after that. So then we'll be 'By Jove' at six thousand. That would be a swell place to make turnover, I think. At 1-G decel, to about four thousand MPS, that'll put us about ... um, that'd take us ninety hours! We'll make that 3-G, at twenty hours, which will put us about three hundred and fifty million miles along, which plus the original four hundred and sixty million adds up to eight hundred and ten million miles—"
"When an astronaut begins to talk like that," interrupted Arden, "we of the skyways say that he is talking in Congressional figures. The shoe is on the other foot. What on earth are you fellows figuring?"
"Where we'll be and how fast we'll be going at a given instant of no particular importance," offered Walt. "When did you wake up?"
"About the third hundred million. All of those ciphers going by made a hollow sound, like a bullet whistling in the wind."