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Shift beta to forty-four and gamma to two sixty-five." Rendezvous was made. Both lifecraft hung motionless relative to the Procyon's hulk. No other lifecraft had escaped. A conference was held. Weeks of work would be necessary before Deston and Jones could learn even approximately what the damage to the Procyon had been.
The low rainbow building of Eight Colors, near the spaceport of Procyon Alpha, had not changed; and when Bart went in, as he had done a year ago, it seemed that the same varnished girl was sitting before the same glass desk, neon-edged and brittle, with the same chrome-tinged hair and blue fingernails.
Procyon goes before the Dog; the noble constellation of Orion stretches broad across the sky; almost overhead lucent Capella looks down. Aries droops towards the west; the Bull follows with the red Aldebaran, and the Pleiades. Behind these, Castor and Pollux, and next the cloudlike, nebulous Cancer.
High Brass came in quantity and the entire story except for one bit of biology was told. Two huge subspace-going machine shops also came, and a thousand mechanics, who worked on the crippled liner for almost three weeks. Then the Procyon started back for Earth under her own subspace drive, under the command of Captain Theodore Jones.
Hargreaves had already learned of the advent of the second freighter. He was unwilling to take the Procyon off her station until the Aldebaran returned from the Konk Valley. In this, von Schlichten concurred. Somebody suggested that a drink would be in order.
The spectra of Sirius and Castor, instead of being delicately ruled crosswise throughout, like that of the sun, were seen to be interrupted by three massive bars of darkness two in the blue and one in the green; the light of Pollux, on the other hand, seemed precisely similar to sunlight attenuated by distance or reflection, and that of Capella, Betelgeux, and Procyon to share some of its peculiarities.
Loneliness had done odd things to him thinking of Ringg, a Lhari, one of the freaks who had killed his father, as a friend! If they knew who he was, they would turn on him, hunt him down as they'd hunted Briscoe, as they'd hunted his father, as they'd hounded him from Earth to Procyon. He put his scruples aside. He'd made up his mind. They could all die. What did he care?
He knew if he thought about Briscoe, he'd start bawling like a baby, so he swallowed hard a couple of times, set his chin, and concentrated on the trip to Procyon Alpha. That meant this ship was outbound on the Aldebaran run Proxima Centauri, Sirius, Pollux, Procyon, Capella and Aldebaran. The line of passengers was disappearing through a doorway.
And, below him, making its leisurely journey to Procyon, was the great golden-hulled bulk of the Valhalla, gleaming faintly in the black night of space. He reached for the controls of his ship radio. Minutes later, he heard a familiar voice that of Chip Collier, the Valhalla's Chief Signal Officer. "Starship Valhalla picking up. We read you. Who is calling, please?" Alan smiled.
Piazza in 1805 perceived, as he supposed, considerable annual displacements in Vega, Aldebaran, Sirius, and Procyon; the truth being that his instruments were worn out with constant use, and could no longer be depended upon. His countryman, Calandrelli, was similarly deluded. The celebrated controversy between the Astronomer Royal and Dr.
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