United States or Tunisia ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
But of course he could be wandering with his Archer helmet-phone turned off. Considering the reputation of Mars, Nelsen was a bit worried. But he had a perhaps treacherous belief that Mitch was special enough to take care of himself. Ramos was impatient. "We'll hook old Mitch on our party line, sometime, Frank," he said. "Right now we ought to get started.
"It makes their approach too heroically personal. On the other hand, some of our lads seem underzealous, nowadays... If you can live up to your successful record in the Belt, maybe you're the right balance. Let's try you." For a week, about all Nelsen did was ride along with Huth in the heli. At intervals, he'd call, "Mitch... Mitch Storey...!" into his helmet-phone.
"You don't have much choice, do you, Nelsen?" he sneered. "However, perhaps Dutch was crude. I apologize for him. And I will deduct a hundred dollars from his pay, and give it to you." "Much obliged," Frank said dryly. After that, everything happened to build his tensions to the breaking point. At a work period's end, near the lunar noon, he heard a voice in his helmet-phone.
Trying to get her free, he dropped his machete... Huth's voice spoke in his helmet-phone. "We hear you, Nelsen! Hold out... We'll be there in forty minutes..." Yeah forty minutes. "It's it's silly to be so scared, Frankie..." he heard Nance stammer almost apologetically. Dear Nance... Screaming, he kicked out again and again with his heavy boots, and got both her and himself loose.
He knew what the region between here and there could be like when there was trouble. "It's me Frank Nelsen Nance," he said into his helmet-phone, as he stood beyond the outskirts of the Town, on the barren, glittering surface of Pallas. "I'm still wearing the sweater. Stay where you are. I've never been on Mars, either. But I'll be there, soon..."
In a minute, Frank Nelsen emerged from Ramos' ring. Floating free, he stabilized himself, fussed with the radio antenna of his helmet-phone for a moment, making its transmission and reception directional. On the misty, shrinking Earth, North America was visible. "Frank Nelsen to Paul Hendricks," he said. "Frank Nelsen to Paul Hendricks..." Paul was waiting, all right. "Hello, Frankie.
Word Of The Day