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Updated: June 13, 2025
And, accepting your faster-than-light explanation, we can understand it." "Then I think you have proof." "If we have, what would you do about it?" "Get to work on those 'misreadings' of the instruments for one thing, and for a second, and more important, line every IP ship with paraffin blocks six inches thick." "Paraffin why?" "The easiest form of hydrogen to get.
They gave me just ten millions, and that only because you demonstrated you could shoot every living thing out of the latest IP cruiser with that neutron gun of yours. By the way, they may kick when I don't install more than a few of those." "Let 'em. You can stall for a few months. You'll need that money more for other purposes. You've installed that paraffin lining?"
I've sold most of mine already in the open market. You want to sell?" "Certainly. And I told you my price." "I know," sighed Faragaut. "It seems a shame though. Those IP board men would pay higher. And they're so damn tight it seems a crime not to make 'em pay up when they have to." "The IP will need the money worse elsewhere. Where do I oh, here?" "Right. I'll be out again this evening.
And if upon DP there is drawn the perpendicular IP, which will lie at the bottom of the crystal, the length SP will be the apparent elevation of the point I above the bottom.
"Calcium metal's the toughest going and even that would break under the beating those ships give it. The only way to withstand it is to have such a mass of metal that the oscillations are damped out. But " The set tuned in on the IP station on Europa was speaking again. "The ships are returning. There are one hundred and twenty-nine by accurate count.
At any rate, Kendall, as finally turned out, had a brain that put him in the first rank of scientists when he felt like it the general constitution of an ostrich and a flair for gambling. The present position was due to such a gamble. An IP man, a friend of his, had made the mistake of betting him a thousand dollars he wouldn't get beyond a Captain's bars in the Patrol.
Tie to that the value of compensated acceleration, and no man's going to turn pirate. He can make more millions selling his inventions than he can make thousands turning pirate with them. So who'd turn pirate?" "Right." McLaurin nodded. "I see your point. Now before I'd accept your statements in re the 'speed of light' thing, I'd want opinions from some IP physicists."
"Wi' the best sheep-dog i' th' North I gie yo' the Shepherd's Trophy! won outreet as will be!" he cries. Instantly the clamor redoubles. "The Dale Cup and Th' Owd Un! The Trophy and oor Bob! 'Ip, 'ip, for the gray dogs! 'Ip, 'ip, for the best sheep-dog as ever was or will be! 'Ooray, 'ooray!"
There was a restrained air of gratefulness about all of them that Tom Faragaut couldn't quite understand. He had been looking up Buck Kendall's famous bank, and more and more he had begun to wonder just what was up. The list of stockholders had read like a list of IP heroes and executives. The staff had been a list of IP men with a slender sprinkling of accountants.
It was an IP defense station, equipped with everything Solarian science knew, and the dome was an eight-foot wall of tungsten-beryllium. The eight feet of solid, ultra-resistant alloy drank up that crumbling beam, and liked it. The wall did not fail.
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