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He was absorbed in the details of putting it across. He looked at it from his own, quite narrow, professional viewpoint. It did not disturb him that he was surrounded by a wilderness. He considered the wilderness the set on which his production belonged, though he was as much a city man as anybody else. He went back to the control-room.
She looked up. "The press association men on Luna, Mr. Cochrane. They saw us take off, and the radar verified that we traveled some hundred of thousands of miles, but then we simply vanished! They don't understand how they can talk to us without even the time-lag between Earth and Lunar City. I was explaining." "I'll take it," said Cochrane. "Jones wants you in the control-room. Cameras?
Cochrane said suddenly, in a pleased tone: "This is a pretty good break if we can keep them from finding out about it back home! We'll have an entirely new program, good for a thirteen-week sequence, on just this!" Babs stared at him. "Main set, this control-room," said Cochrane enthusiastically. "We'll get a long-beard scientist back home with a panel of experts. We'll discuss our problems here!
"It's a dirty trick!" "Which," Joe assured him, "I commit only because there's a robot ship from Bootstrap coming up any time now. And we'll need to pick it up and tow it here." He went to the control-room to see if he could get a vision connection to Earth. He got the beam, and he got Sally on the screen. A report of the attack on the Platform had evidently already gone down to Earth.
Murgatroyd gazed about unhappily, and swung down to the control-room floor, and then paused for lack of any place to go or thing to do. He sat down and began half-heartedly to lick his whiskers. Maril stirred. Murgatroyd looked at her hopefully. "Chee?" he asked shrilly. She shook her head. It became a habit to act as if Murgatroyd were a human being. "N-no," she said unsteadily. "Not yet."
Since you are in as deep as you can get, and since this trip is dangerous, you should know everything there is to know. You are one of the higher-ups now, anyway: and we understand each other thoroughly, I believe?" "I believe so." Back in the bow control-room DuQuesne applied more power, but not enough to render movement impossible.
Jones and Johnny Simms were long behind the others, and Jones' expression was conspicuously dead-pan. Johnny Simms looked sulkily rebellious. His sulking had not attracted attention in the control-room. He had meant to refuse sulkily to come to dinner. But Jones wouldn't trust him alone in the control-room. Now he sat down, scowling, and ostentatiously refused to eat, despite Alicia's coaxing.
It had the pinkish-tan color of naked human flesh. It ran with its head down, and it could not be seen too clearly, but it was startlingly manlike in outline. Up in the control-room Bell fairly yipped with excitement and swung his camera. Holden remained oblivious. He still tried to lure something out of concealment. A second creature raced for the woods.
"Now whe're are you taking her?" he demanded. The man arched blond eyebrows. "To the local Medical Center where else? There's only one in this area." "Thanks," Kennon said. He watched the ambulance flit off as he waited for the Spaceport Patrol. There was no further need for the protection suit, so he peeled it off and hung it in the control-room locker. Copper was right, he mused. It did itch.
But in theory the field should modify the effect of inertia as the fourth power of its strength. Sixty to the fourth is ." "How far," demanded Cochrane, "is Proxima Centaurus? That's the nearest star to Earth. How near did we come to reaching it?" The pilot on the other side of the control-room said with a trace less than his former zest: "That looks like Sirius, over there ..."
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