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Updated: June 17, 2025
Joe Kivelson's voice, out of the loudspeakers all around, was yelling: "Everybody away from the front! Get the blowers in; start in on the other side!" I wanted to find out who had been splashed, but Joe Kivelson was too busy directing the new phase of the fight to hand out casualty reports to the press, and besides, there were too many things happening all at once that I had to get.
Joe Kivelson got the square box he had brought down from the ship along with the log, fussed a little with it, and then launched it out the disposal port. It was a radio locator. Sometimes a lucky ship will get more wax than the holds' capacity; they pack it in skins and anchor it on the bottom, and drop one of those gadgets with it.
Joe Kivelson and his wife. Dad and Julio and Mrs. Laden, who was actually being cordial to Bish, and who had a bundle for us that we weren't to open till we were in hyperspace. Lillian Arnaz, the girl who was to take my place as star reporter. We were going to send each other audiovisuals; advice from me on the job, and news from the Times from her.
I got back in the jeep and returned to where Joe Kivelson was keeping track of what was going on in five screens, including one from a pickup on a lifter at the ceiling, and shouting orders that were being reshouted out of loudspeakers all over the place.
Ravick seemed to have gotten the idea that Joe Kivelson was the mastermind of the hunters' cabal against him. I know if I'd found that Joe Kivelson and Oscar Fujisawa were in any kind of a conspiracy together, I wouldn't pick Joe for the mastermind. It was just possible, I thought, that Oscar had been fostering this himself, in case anything went wrong.
I had to explain to him that Hermann Reuch's Land was the antarctic continent of Fenris, and hasn't any other coast. "I'd say we're a good deal west of Sancerre Bay," Cesário Vieira hazarded. "We can't be east of it, the way we got blown west. I think we must be at least five hundred miles east of it." "Don't fool yourself, Cesário," Joe Kivelson told him.
I gave Julio a short item to the effect that Tom Kivelson, son of Captain and Mrs. Joe Kivelson, one of the Javelin survivors who had been burned in the tallow-wax fire, was now out of all danger, and recovering. Dad was able to scrounge that onto the first page. There was a lot of other news.
Ten seconds, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one; rocket off!" There was a whoosh outside. Clifford, at the radio, repeated: "Rocket off!" Then it banged, high overhead. "Did you see it? he asked. "Didn't see a thing," Feinberg told him. "Hey, I know what they would see!" Tom Kivelson burst out. "Say we go up and set the woods on fire?" "Hey, that's an idea.
"I guess that's about the size of it," Joe Kivelson conceded. "How close to land are we?" "The radar isn't getting anything but open water and schools of fish," Abe Clifford said. "For all I know, we could be inside Sancerre Bay now." "Well, then, why don't we surface?" Murell continued.
That was Oscar Fujisawa. "I won't!" That was Joe Kivelson. "He's always taking the part of that old rumpot of a Bish Ware." "Lieutenant, that remark was a slur on my paper, as well as myself," I said. "Will you permit Captain Kivelson to come in along with me? And somebody else," I couldn't resist adding, "so that people will believe him?" Ranjit Singh considered that briefly.
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