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Updated: May 9, 2025
Scralabus primus was the scientific name of the creature, but the fact that it looked like a silicon armadillo had given it the popular name of "silly dilly." Apart from its desire for oxygen, it was harmless. Koa reported, "Sir, the block of thorium is ready. We've hung it on a line behind the landing-boat. The blast won't hurt it, and it's too big to get inside the boat." "Fine, Koa.
Every now and then we'll sneak out for a look, if the screen seems clear. If those high-vack vermin do find you, get on the landing-boat radio and yell for help. We'll come blasting." He waved a hand, thumb and forefinger held together in the ancient symbol for "everything right," then ordered, "Get flaming." He stepped through the valve. "Clear the lock," Rip ordered.
The Arctic Sea thunders hoarsely against the Cape as we approach the rough, weather-worn cliff in a small landing-boat. It is near the midnight hour, yet the warmth of the sun's direct rays envelops us.
Not too far, of course. Just enough to lead the Connie away from you if its screen picks us up." That sounded good to Rip. "We'll be ready when you are, sir." The chief analyst took less than the estimated ten minutes for his next set of figures. Commander O'Brine called personally while Rip was still searching for the right landing-boat ports. The voice horn bellowed, "Get it, Lieutenant Foster!
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