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Updated: June 14, 2025
After three terrible hours, Stephen left Morely in a troubled sleep, and set out for the log-house on the hill with the help so much needed. All the way there he had been going over the question in his mind whether or not he should tell Mrs Morely of her husband's situation.
Most of the traces of damage done by the bombings of the Nineties were gone from about the estate areas by now, and the few which remained were being eliminated. Morely increased the magnification, to watch a few animals at a waterhole. He could do a little hunting in a few weeks. Take a nice leave. He drew a deep breath.
He gave himself to the work with a devotion that was worthy of the holy cause. What one man may do to save another, Samuel Muir did for John Morely.
"Well," he told himself, "let's see how it works." From the way Bond had acted in his office, the sector leader might be still wearing his headband. In fact, he probably was. Morely concentrated on the man, then concentrated on a single, peremptory thought. "Bond! Can you receive me?" The answer was prompt. "Yes, sir. You wanted me?" "Of course, Idiot. Why do you think I called?
Scant feet from ground surface, the sportster pilot flicked his pitch control and pulled his throttle out for the brief burst of power which would allow him to drop gently to the landing platform. Morely grinned savagely as he saw the impellers below him change pitch and start to move faster.
His constant anxious care for Morely all the winter had done much to make a man of him. His little weaknesses and vanities had fallen from him in the midst of his real work; and seeing the happy mother and her children, his heart filled with humble thankfulness to God, who had permitted him to help the husband and father to stand against his enemy.
The little lads met him with shouts of welcome halfway down the hill, and when he came into the house there was Sophy busy with her tea-cakes, and Mrs Morely sewing her never-failing white seam, and Dolly was dancing the baby on her lap, and singing a song which brought the prairie, and their home there, and the long summer Sabbaths to his mind, and a sudden shadow to his face.
The sportster pilot approached, the indignation on his face changing to bewilderment, then dismay as he noted Morely's insignia and the attitude of the two men who faced him. Morely turned to the guard. "Get me his name, identification number, and the name of his leader." "Yes, sir." The guard turned to the man, who grimaced a little with pain as he slowly put a hand in his pocket.
A shadow of uncertainty crossed his face, followed by a quickly suppressed expression of distaste. Morely watched him. "Well?" he demanded impatiently, "I don't feel or see anything unusual." "Of course not, sir," explained Bond smoothly. "You haven't put on the other headband yet." "Oh? I thought you could establish communication with only one headset, so long as you were in the same room."
The small ship, struck by the gale from above, had listed to the right and gone out of control, grazing one of the heavy splinter shutters at the side of the landing slot. The ship lay on its side, amidst the wreckage of its impellers. Morely flicked on his warning siren and lights, then feathered his own impellers, dropping his ship in free fall.
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