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Updated: May 8, 2025
He was held motionless in the invisible grip of the attractors, at the point where the force of those peculiar magnets was exactly balanced by the outward thrust of the repellers. By manipulating the attractor holding it, Seaton brought the strange tubular weapon into the control-room through a small air-lock in the wall and examined it curiously, but did not touch it.
He went back to the control-room. When Morgan appeared, beaming expansively, Bors was again unsurprised to see Gwenlyn with him. Logan, the Mathematics Talent, followed in their wake, looking indifferently about him. "We wiped out the fleet headed for Kandar," Bors observed. "I don't suppose that's news, to you?" Morgan cheerfully shook his head.
It started with curt conversation between Jones and the pilot, Al Jones loathed this part of it, but Al turned out to be something of a ham on the problems of approaching a new solar system. Cut to computers back on Earth. Back to the control-room of the starship. Pictures of the local sun, and comments on its differentness from the sun that had nourished the human race since time began.
He settled down in a deeply upholstered chair. He felt neglected. Everybody was busy. But mostly he felt tired. He slept. Then Babs was shaking his arm, her eyes shining. "Mr. Cochrane!" she cried urgently. "Mr. Cochrane! Wake up! Go on up to the control-room! We're going to take off!" He blinked at her. "We!"
Alicia can find the tape-can for you." He went back to his cameras. Cochrane saw a monstrous globe swing past a control-room port. It was a featureless mass of clouds, save for striations across what must be its equator. It looked like the Lunar Observatory pictures of Jupiter, back in the Sun's family of planets. It went past the port, and a moon swam into view. It was a very large moon.
Jamison would take care of the catering, when meal-time came. Probably Alicia Keith no, Alicia Simms would help. Nothing else needed attention. The rockets either worked or they didn't. The air-apparatus needed no supervision. Cochrane found himself without a function. He went restlessly back to the control-room.
The control-room was a hemisphere, with vertical vision-screens picturing the stars overhead. Jones stood in an odd sort of harness beside a set of control-switches that did not match the smoothly designed other controls of the ship. He looked out of a plastic blister, by which he could see around and below the ship.
Will you take over and head for Glamis?" He left the control-room, to let his subordinate handle things for a time. He'd seated himself in the mess-room when the voice of his second-in-command came through the speakers. "Going into overdrive," said the voice. "All steady. Five, four, three, two " Bors prepared to wince. He put down his coffee cup and held himself ready for the sickening sensation.
A moment later there was a whistling murmur, and the boat's vision-ports clouded over outside and then cleared. He stepped out into the ship's atmosphere. His second-in-command greeted him in the control-room. "I was trying to reach you at the flagship, sir," he said. "The yacht Sylva is lying a few miles off. Her owner has forwarded news reports to the flagship.
It's either perfectly safe or we're all dead anyhow. Frankly, I think it's safe. It feels right outside, Jed! It honestly feels right!" "I'll come with you," said Cochrane, "Jones and the pilot are necessary if the ship's to get back to Earth. But we're expendable." He went back to the control-room. Johnny Simms zestfully undertook to outfit them with arms. He made no proposal to accompany them.
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