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Besides this there were collected at Headquarters civilian milk floats, lorries, spring carts and other vehicles which had been pressed into service as regimental transport. Horses with patched civilian harness gave the transport the appearance of a "haywire outfit."
It was typing out clear copy, then suddenly there wasn't anything but gibberish." "That's it," Steve agreed. "And it's the best analogy I can think of for what happened to the two scientists. When a teletype goes haywire, one moment everything is clear and perfect, the next everything is scrambled. All the letters are there but they no longer make words.
He laid his soldering iron down and massaged the small of his back, grimacing slightly. "Oh, me! I'll swear my back'll never be the same again. But that ought to do it, at last." He looked at the equipment before him and grinned ruefully. "Of all the haywire messes. It started out so nice. And it ended up so awful."
Reaching gingerly in through the haywire mass of cables surrounding the central components, he pointed to one of the coils and exclaimed in the tones of a Sherlock Holmes, "Ah-ha, my dear Watson! I have just located the final clue to my missing magnaswedge. I suppose you know the duty cycle on those coils is only about 0.01?" "Not after I finished with them!" Ishie grinned unrepentant.
"Dad, don't you have a professional friend in Newark? The teletype machine just went haywire for the third time and I need help." Hartson Brant muttered, "Good Lord! Yes, Rick. I have a mechanic friend who is ideally suited for the purpose. Constantine Chavez. Look him up in the professional part of the phone directory. I'll phone him and say you're bringing the machine." "Good, Dad.
Even experts take time to set up klystrons, and it was three hours later before Mike was ready with the additional piece of haywire equipment which carefully piped RF energy into the plastic block.
He was a fairly small tiger, but he was accustomed to being larger than any spider he had ever heard of. This spider, he felt certain, was some sort of a freak of nature. Perhaps a direct result of the humans' constant littering, or maybe a military experiment gone haywire. "Ahh, my little pussycat," laughed the creature. "I have you now. There is no need for further struggle."
"We can't know, of course, but if you were a warehouse clerk and a big rocket went haywire, wouldn't you be out watching it?" "I'd be out where the view was best. So would you," Scotty replied. "Remember where we saw a transistor recently?" Rick asked. Scotty reached in his pocket, brought out his sling, and unwrapped it.
They've got a detector system set up now that would spot a catassin if it moved twenty feet in any direction." "Life detectors go haywire out of normal space, don't they?" she said. "That's why they surfaced then." Quillan nodded. "You're a well-informed doll. They're pretty certain it's been sucked into space or disposed of by its owner, but they'll go on looking till we dive beyond Garth."
At first we thought it was just one of those typical accidents that happen during rocket research. Even the best-performing rockets sometimes go haywire. But when we got into the wreckage, we found the steering vanes had been tampered with, in a way that inspection couldn't have disclosed." "Was there a picture?" Scotty asked. "Not in or on the rocket.
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