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"Let a volunteer go aboard," commanded the chief executive. "Let him report what he finds." A pause. Then the solemn announcement of an intrepid volunteer's name, from far, far away. Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine behavior. Suspenseful, second-by-second reports.
Calhoun listened, frowning darkly. This pompous heroism wouldn't be noticed in the Med Service. It would be routine behavior. Suspenseful, second-by-second reports. The volunteer had rocketed himself across the emptiness between the two again-separated ships. He had opened the airlock from outside. He'd gone in. He'd closed the outer airlock door. He'd opened the inner. He reported.
The scene on the day of Dumont's downfall was a calm in comparison with the scene which Dumont, sitting alone among the piled-up coils of ticker-tape, was reconstructing from its, to him, vivid second-by-second sketchings. The mysterious force which had produced a succession of earthquakes moved horribly on, still in mystery impenetrable, to produce a cataclysm.
As a matter of fact" glancing up at the clock on the wall "it looks like she has. That clock hasn't moved since I got here." Even as he spoke, the clock whirred, jumped forty-five minutes, and settled down to its steady, second-by-second spin. "Ishie," said Mike, "we figured out a space drive, and that was great.
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