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Updated: May 21, 2025
"Why by copter?" asked Maya. "Groundcar is faster." For the first time, Nuwell's face broke into a genuine smile, and his ordinary charming self shone through. "Because," he replied drolly, "I've just made that trip by groundcar, and every bone in my body aches. It may be slower, but I want to go back by air, where there aren't as many bumps!" Maya was able to laugh at this.
On a world where for thousands of years men had killed each other untidily in wars, and where they now prepared to destroy themselves wholly in a final one, there was no possibility of such a civilization existing in secret. But where was it? Soames stood by the 'copter, staring bemusedly at the ship. The two boys came out.
Down those corridors, up those steps, when Nuwell already was sliding into the pilot's seat of the copter? Frantically, Dark grasped at his only chance of reaching her in time. Teleportation. He clamped down with his mind on himself. With a frenzied burst of strength, he sought to lift himself bodily, to be there in the copter with them. He put every ounce of energy he possessed into the effort.
He said that the member of the 'copter crew had given some other information before he was arbitrarily cut off. "I'll bet," said Lockley when the newscast ended, "I'll bet the other information was that the invaders have managed to tell him that earth must surrender to them!" "Why?" "What else would they want to say?
As the groundcar emerged onto the sage-covered plain, the men were helping the two policemen from Ophir unload the box containing Dark Kensington's remains from another groundcar and load it into the baggage bay of the copter. Nuwell and Maya slipped into their marsuits, secured the helmets and climbed out of the groundcar.
The Contraction took one of his sons away. And now he wants the hyperdrive as much as I do. Alan glanced at the stiff, erect figure of his father as they clambered out of the copter and headed at a fast clip toward the Administration Building of the Enclave. He wondered just how much pain and anguish his father was keeping hidden back of that brisk, efficient exterior.
Was his father hiding inside the Lhari ship? He wanted to run, to burst away from the imposter, but the guy was shaking so hard Bart couldn't just leave him standing there. If the Lhari got him, he was a dead duck. A copter swooped down, the pilot signaling. The little man said hoarsely, "No. Robotcab."
Pelton," a voice from the hall broke in. He turned. Olaf Olafsson, the 'copter driver, was standing at the entrance to the breakfast nook, a smudge of oil on his cheek and his straw-colored hair in disorder. "How do I go about startin' this new 'copter?" "What?" Olaf had been his driver for ten years. He would have been less surprised had the ceiling fallen in. "You don't know how to start it?"
"Let's get going, Son," said the little bald man. His hand shook on Bart's, and Bart thought, If we're lucky, we can get out of the port before he faints dead away. He said "I'll get a copter," and then, feeling sorry for the stranger, gave him his arm to lean on. He didn't know whether he was worried or scared. Where was his father? Why did this man have his dad's papers?
If I do not report in twenty minutes come with caution, caution, caution to see what is the matter." The 'copter made a loud, loud noise as it went skittering down toward the object and the children on the ice. The snow-mist blew aside and there was plainly a ship lying partly crushed upon the snow. Half its length was smashed, but he could see that it had never flown with wings.
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