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He screamed at them, but they watched the brush fire that swept the hill top. It was a goodie. It would wipe out a number of homes. He grabbed a boy by the arm and demanded, "Look at the Ipplinger starship. Behold the glory of Ippling!" The ten-year-old sneered. "Yah! That's the new 1993 Lockheed X69-P37 experimental ship. I got a model last week." "No, no, lad!
"All passengers, will you pay attention, please?" All the high-fidelity speakers of the starship Procyon spoke as one, in the skillfully-modulated voice of the trained announcer. "This is the fourth and last cautionary announcement. Any who are not seated will seat themselves at once.
Something back in his mind told him that. But of course it was ridiculous, a quirk of the imagination. There weren't any starships. You're all right, Kieran. You're in a starship, and you're all right. The emphatic assurance came from somewhere back in his brain and it was comforting.
The only way a ship could alter its trajectory was to cut speed completely, and with the drive dead there would be no way of picking it up again. The ship would continue to drift slowly out to the stars, while its crew died of old age. So the routes were registered, and in the event of drive trouble it was thus possible for a rescue ship to locate the imperilled starship.
But he didn't abuse that gift. He concealed it a little, so the people who lacked his talent did not get too jealous of him. Jealousy ran high on Earth; people here led short ugly lives, and there was none of the serenity and friendliness of life aboard a starship. He felt very tired, but it was just physical fatigue; he felt wide awake mentally.
There...." The starship vanished in less than a blink. "Now it's back again!" the spaceman announced. And, indeed, it truly was! "Well, what do you think?" Of course, Graham was beside himself. He could not speak. "Wow!" he said eventually. "Wow!" "Naturally," continued the spaceman, "I had to lower the vibrations again to re-manifest it into your reality.
And the Valhalla was still bound on its long journey to Procyon. Nine years had passed, but yet another remained before the giant starship would touch down on a planet of Procyon's. But the Fitzgerald Contraction had telescoped those nine years into just a few months, for the people of the Valhalla. Steve Donnell was still twenty-six. And now Alan had caught him. The Contraction had evened out.
He was looking forward to the coming of winter, and with it snow. He hardly ever thought of the Valhalla. He disciplined himself to keep thoughts of the starship out of his mind, for he knew that once he began regretting his decision there would be no stopping.
Men were moving about busily near the big ship, and Alan remembered that it had become obsolete during its last long voyage, and was being rebuilt. A robot came sliding up to the three of them as they stood there at the edge of the landing field. "Can I help you, please?" "I'm from the starship Valhalla," Alan said. "I'm returning to the ship. Would you take me to the ship, please?" "Of course."
He had been in Section T2, on his way to the lock, and suddenly the floor had risen under him and Wheel Five had seemed to crash into pieces around him. The cold, the pain You're in a starship. You're all right. For God's sake why did his mind keep telling him things like that, things he believed?
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