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Updated: May 2, 2025
Kromodeor elevated an eye and studied the screen, upon which, to the accompaniment of whistling, shrieking sound, whirled and gyrated an interlacing group of serpentine forms. "A good show, Wixill," the projector officer replied, "but nothing to hold the attention of men engaged in what we are doing. Think of it!
They should have rayed us out or exploded us," Kromodeor pondered. The Vorkuls, with their inhumanly powerful, sinuous bodies, were scarcely affected by the shock of that frightful fall.
The guiding fins, being comparatively small and extremely tough, required no protection. "We're just in time," Kromodeor whistled. "The main bout is nicely on. See anyone from the flagship? I might stake a couple of korpels that Sintris will paint the symbol upon his wing."
All of us have felt it, and none of us senses enmity. Therefore, it is not a hexan it may be one of those strange creatures of the satellites, who are, of course, perfectly harmless." "Harmless, but unpleasant," returned Kromodeor. "When we get back I'm going to find his beam myself and send a discharge along it that will end his spying upon me. I do not...."
She therefore put on one of the headsets, motioning the men to do the same, and approached Kromodeor with the other, repeating the hexan word of friendly import. This time the Vorkul's brain was not sealed against the visitors and thoughts began to flow. "You've used those things a lot," Brandon turned to Stevens in a quick aside. "Can you hide your thoughts?" "Sure why?"
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