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"That's the way we have to treat our fellows here," said Trevannion. "Summary justice, you know. They're a rough lot. Now come and see the office and the plans." Whatever Garstin may have thought of these proceedings, he said nothing, but followed submissively along the wharf.
Jurgen, Prince Trevannion, accepted the coffee cup and lifted it to his lips, then lowered it. These Navy robots always poured coffee too hot; spacemen must have collapsium-lined throats. With the other hand, he punched a button on the robot's keyboard and received a lighted cigarette; turning, he placed the cup on the command-desk in front of him and looked about.
The echoing wind and the hoarse murmur of the gang at work on Section D mingled with the groaning and clattering of the cranes. Garstin missed the warmth of the fire and shivered; he had forgotten his overcoat; and he experienced only the mildest curiosity in the surroundings. Trevannion walked rapidly and in silence. He was thinking mainly of how he could get his own back from this usurper.
He hastily affixed the new rope, and let himself down into the abyss, where he discovered Trevannion insensible, with his forehead almost touching the water. It did not take long to make a noose and slip it over the latter's shoulders, but he had hardly done so when a gush of water swept over the beam, carrying away the lantern and plunging them into total darkness.
While you're waiting, you might sort out whoever seems to be in charge and find out just what in Nifflheim he thinks that launching-station was maintained for." "I think I can tell you that, now, Commodore," Prince Trevannion said as Shatrak blanked the screen. "We have a petrified authoritarianism.
Trevannion more time for the practical work in the execution of which he had given such satisfactory proof of his ability." Notwithstanding the sop to his feelings, Trevannion had grasped the significance of this communication, and resented it.
"You you are not going to the wharf, are you?" he asked. "Yes for the first time in my life." "Is your name Garstin?" "That's it. Perhaps you can tell me " "I'm Trevannion," briefly. "I didn't expect you quite so soon. Er I'm glad to meet you."
Then it is ordered so recorded." Then he had to make another speech, to inform the representatives of his new sovereign of the fact. Prince Trevannion, in the name of the Emperor, delivered the well-worn words of welcome, and Lanze Degbrend got the coronet out of the black velvet bag under his arm and the Imperial Proconsul, Obray, Count Erskyll, was crowned.
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