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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Tolto, you climb on top of that rock. Watch me. If you see anybody after me, let 'em have it. I'm going to see if I can scare up a desert hog somewhere." Neither had stirred from his place, however, before they were suddenly stricken to the ground. They felt the familiar sensation of cold and suffocation the paralysis caused by a diffused beam from a neuro-pistol.
Wilcox, or Scar Balta, would come straight for this prison, neuro-pistol or needle-ray in hand! Even if he should fail, death would be his portion for the attempt. So thinking, Wasil sat down and carefully re-checked the circuits. The filler broadcast from central office must be sent to the twin cities of Tarog.
Yens, the mate, sitting at the controls in the glassed-in cabin forward, turned his head at the captain's cry, and, looking down the short corridor into the main cabin, saw the blood-covered giant coming toward him. Mr. Yens was a brave man; but he had been careless. His neuro-pistol was in his own cabin. He did the best he knew, and snapped the lock.
His beetle-browed face was truculent, and his hand rested on the hilt of his neuro-pistol. "No visitors allowed!" snapped the guard. "I'm not exactly a visitor," Sime objected, but making no move to get out of the taxi. "I'm an engineer sent here by the board of directors to see why the output of this mine has dropped. Where's Mr. Murray?" "All settled!" the guard retorted.
Sime Hemingway tried to tell him but his swollen tongue would not behave. Instead, he waved in the general direction of the Sun. Tolto understood. "From Earth? Good guy, prob'ly. Want this dingus?" Sime was able to take the neuro-pistol. He knew what was expected of him, and strove to collect his faculties so he could obey orders.
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