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"Only I hope the darned idiot doesn't cook himself up another jam..." They all knew then, for sure, what had happened. Right now, Glen Tiflin was wandering alone, somewhere, cursing and suffering.
"Tiflin me and my brother helped you. Now we're gonna sit on you just to make sure your funny business doesn't kill us all. Try anything just once, and we'll feed you all that vacuum without an Archer. If you're a good boy, maybe you'll live to get dumped on the Moon as we pass by." "Nuts let's give this sick rat to the Space Force right now." Art Kuzak hissed. "Here comes their patrol bubb."
And I don't want to bypass and miss anything. Oh, hell, Charlie I'll get farther, soon, too! But I really don't even know what I'll do, yet. Got to wait and see how the cards fall..." Several hours before the rest of the Bunch curved into a slow orbit a thousand miles above the Moon, Glen Tiflin set the ionic of his bubb for full acceleration, and arced away, outward, perhaps toward the Belt.
Charlie Reynolds and Two-and-Two got to Venus, and hooked up with the exploring expedition. Tiflin? Who knows?" "Ramos?" "Ah a real disappointing case, Frank. Darn wild idiot who ought to be probing the farther reaches of the solar system, got himself a job in a chemical plant in Serene. A synthesizing retort exploded. He was burned pretty bad. Just out of the hospital when I last left.
Even without the memory that Tiflin might make guesses about what they meant to do, Nelsen and Ramos would have taken no chances. They had to be brutal. Homing darts pierced armor. The four went to sleep. The asteroid, Pallas, was a chunk of rich core material, two hundred-some miles in its greatest dimension.
And now he's saying, 'Be cavalier it might be awkward for me to meet Art and Joe just at present. Do you want to fix this character's wagon bad enough? Your customers could get mean if he ever did them dirt." "Just one thing I've got against Tiflin!" Art snarled back. "Every time I hear his voice, it means trouble. But I've never seen the crumb face-to-face since that Moonhop.
So it was, until, near the end of a long ride, a cluster of bubbs was in view in the near distance, and Ramos and Nelsen could contact Art Kuzak themselves. "We've got Tiflin and his Tovie pal with us, Art," Frank Nelsen said. "They showed us the way, more or less because we made them. But Tif did give us the right position at the start. A favor, maybe. I don't know.
"All right thanks. Thank you, sir..." Nelsen felt somewhat numb. But a faint, golden glow was increasing inside his mind. Tiflin hadn't gone up to Tech. He was still waiting on the street corner. "What the hell, Frank?" he said. "I think we've got the loan, Tif. But he wants to see all of us.
'Cause he sure can't stand another devil-killer." "We'd better," Frank answered quickly. But now Tiflin, having deserted his blastoff drum, was coming through the airlock flaps, too. He stepped forward gingerly, along the spinning, ring-shaped tunnel. "Poor bookworm," he growled in a tone curiously soft for Glen Tiflin. "Think I don't understand how it is?
Though he had sensed it coming and had met it calmly, the Tiflin switch was something that Frank Nelsen had trouble getting over. It confused him. It made him want to laugh. Another thing that began to bother him even more was the realization that the violence, represented by Fessler, Fanshaw, Parnay, and thousands of others like them back through history, was bound to crop up again.
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