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Updated: May 20, 2025
They could still have conversed, by direct sound or by helmet-radio, but the devil-killer seemed to subdue the impulse, and for a while caused a dreaminess that shortened the long wait... "Okay time to move!" Heavy with their Archies, they filed out into desert sun-glare that their darkened helmets made feeble.
He was falling, around the Earth, his forward motion exactly balancing his downward motion, in a locked ellipse, a closed trajectory. His mind cleared very fast that must have been another phase of the devil-killer shot coming into action.
That would be a break! Mars still has weather. Archeological objects wouldn't stay new there for millions of years, but here they would! Rodan is right he's got something that'll make him famous!" "Yes I think I'll have a devil-killer and hit the sack, Frank," Lester said. "Oh all right," Frank agreed wearily. "Me, likewise." Frank awoke naturally from a dreamless slumber.
The whole Bunch was quite a bit like that, for a good part of the night, shouting lustily back and forth between the two trucks, laughing, singing, wise-cracking, drinking up Otto Kramer's Pepsi and beer. But at last, Gimp Hines, remembering wisdom, spoke up. "We're supposed to be under mild sedation a devil-killer, a tranquilizer for at least thirty hours.
The news of the death of the second "devil" soon spread far and wide over the country, and natives actually travelled from up and down the line to have a look at my trophies and at the "devil-killer", as they called me. Best of all, the coolies who had absconded came flocking back to Tsavo, and much to my relief work was resumed and we were never again troubled by man-eaters.
So I was sort of looking, knowing about where you'd be. Just made it in time. Les and the girl, and that ornery professor-or-whatever, are right here, too still knocked out with a devil-killer. You've been out twenty hours, yourself. I'll fill you in on the news. Just shut up and drink up. Good Earth whiskey a hundred bucks just to shoot a fifth into orbit." Frank gulped and coughed.
'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?
So now why should I want to live alone? It is not right for a man like me to go on living at the expense of all the family which I ought to support. Why should I not please the goddess by sacrificing myself?" So Hero first approached the goddess with a hymn of praise: "O Demon-slayer! Saviour! Devil-killer! Trident-holder! Joy of the wise! Protectress of the universe!
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