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Dennis snarled at the door and, in some kind of sheer ecstatic bravado, emitted a Tarzan roar. Instantly a weight hit the door from the outside. It shuddered but did not give. Dennis crouched, gripping his knife. Frank Corson staggered to his feet and hurled himself groggily at the android. Dennis roared again, pushed away and arced the knife at his throat.
But let's get in and out of this black beehive before the ones upstairs come down to investigate." Shattered rock was thick on the floor, and they skidded and tumbled over it. Telt pointed the way with his light, down a sharply angled ramp. "Underground chambers in the rock. They always store their stuff down there " A smoking, black sphere arced out of the tunnel's mouth, hitting at their feet.
There was a picture of a girl dodging a taxi. He'd caught her with both feet off the ground and a look of surprise on her face, but with her body arced backward and both hands on her rump as though she'd just been thoroughly and expertly goosed. Too vulgar. He put the pic aside. And the Park Avenue hit? Here it was, a shot of a guy lying where he'd dropped, with the pigeon's rocketing away.
The "wild goats of the rock," described in the chapter just quoted, are supposed to be the same as the ibex or bouquetin. This animal is larger than the tame goat, but resembles it much in form. The head is small is proportion to the body, with the muzzle thick and compressed, and a little arced. The eyes are large and round, and have much fire and brilliancy.
Their mutual attraction pulled them toward each other. As they got closer, the charges arced across, heating and fusing the two ships. But they still had enough motion toward each other to crash. "They were wrecked by less than a tenth of an ounce of ions which were projected to the ship and held there by an automatic field until the ships got close enough to arc through it.
This time it struck one of the Lhari grazingly with landing gear and knocked him sprawling. Bart stood with his mouth open, as if paralyzed. Briscoe! What was he doing? The fallen Lhari lay without moving. The robotcab moved in again, as if for the kill, buzzing viciously overhead. Then a beam of light arced from one of the drawn energon-ray tubes.
The last pair propelled him off the floor. Stanton stepped back and let him have a right just below the jaw, where his throat would have been if he'd been human. The Nipe arced backwards in a half-somersault and landed flat on his back. Stanton backed up a little more, waiting, while the Nipe wriggled feebly for a moment. The Marquis of Queensbury should have lived to see this, he thought.
In a long curve he arced back toward the ship. Instantly, the searchers moved to close in the arc and meet him on a collision course. He could see them now. They were not crewmen in spacesuits as he had supposed. Rather, the objects two of them looked like miniature spaceships.
He would not have believed that anything could be so utterly terrifying. His knees buckled momentarily and left him clinging to the side of the port. Sweat burst anew from every pore. Blindly, he pressed the jet control and forced himself into space. He arced a short distance along the curve of the ship and then forced himself down into contact with the hull.
He twirled the fourth dial, and instantly there was a flash of light, and a moment later a terrific concussion. "It is gone." He left the controls, and went over to his apparatus. He set a heavy silver bladed switch, and placed a new tube in the apparatus. A second switch arced a bit as he drove it home. "Your generator is recharging the accumulators."
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