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Updated: May 29, 2025
They chatted for a while, and then Stenson apologized for taking up so much of Mr. Grego's valuable time. What he meant was that his own time, just as valuable to him, was wasting. After the screen blanked, Grego sat looking at it for a moment, wishing he had a hundred men like Henry Stenson in his own organization.
All Fuzzies carry weapons. A Fuzzy's weapon is still subconsciously regarded as a part of the Fuzzy, hence it must also be buried." Mallin frowned portentously. The idea seemed to appeal to him, but of course he simply couldn't agree too promptly with a mere layman, even the boss. "Well, so far you're on fairly safe ground, Mr. Grego," he admitted.
The recorded voice stopped. He ran back the spool, set for sixty-speed, and transmitted it to the radio office. In twenty minutes, a copy would be aboard the ship that would hyper out for Terra that night. While he was finishing, his communication screen buzzed. "Dr. Kellogg's screening you, Mr. Grego," the girl in the outside office told him. He nodded.
"There's farewell to the wind for Mr Grego." "Lower the boats, Mr Saltwell," was heard in the deep tones of the captain's voice. The first lieutenant repeated the order. Mr Brown's whistle was next heard piping the boats away, and getting out the cutter, and in another minute the crews and the respective officers were in them, waiting for the commander to shove off.
"The globe itself is keeping perfect time, and Darius is all right, Xerxes is a few seconds of longitude ahead of true position." "That's dreadful, Mr. Grego!" Stenson was deeply shocked. "I must adjust that the first thing tomorrow. I should have called to check on it long ago, but you know how it is. So many things to do, and so little time." "I find the same trouble myself, Mr. Stenson."
Emmert muttered something inaudible and probably indecent. "I didn't think he had. I only hope those Fuzzies don't get up in court, build a bonfire and start making speeches in Lingua Terra." Nick Emmert cried out in panic. "You believe they're sapient yourself!" "Of course. Don't you?" Grego laughed sourly. "Nick thinks you have to believe a thing to prove it. It helps but it isn't necessary.
Bring Chummy along with you; he knows the inside of this place better than we do. Piet, call in. We want six more men. Tell Chang to borrow from the constabulary if he has to." "Wait a minute," Jack said. He turned to Ruth. "What do you know about this?" "Well, not much. I was with Dr. Mallin here when Mr. Grego I mean, Mr.
Now he was afraid that the real jewel was going to be stolen from him. Nick Emmert was just afraid. "You were right yesterday, Victor. I wish Holloway'd killed that son of a Khooghra. Maybe it's not too late " "Yes, it is, Nick. It's too late to do anything like that. It's too late to do anything but win the case in court." He turned to Grego. "What are your people doing?"
Going to his heavy grego, or wrapall, or dreadnaught, which he had previously hung on a chair, he fumbled in the pockets, and produced at length a curious little deformed image with a hunch on its back, and exactly the colour of a three days' old Congo baby. Remembering the embalmed head, at first I almost thought that this black manikin was a real baby preserved in some similar manner.
When our frigate lay in Callao, on the coast of Peru her last harbour in the Pacific I found myself without a grego, or sailor's surtout; and as, toward the end of a three years' cruise, no pea-jackets could be had from the purser's steward: and being bound for Cape Horn, some sort of a substitute was indispensable; I employed myself, for several days, in manufacturing an outlandish garment of my own devising, to shelter me from the boisterous weather we were so soon to encounter.
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