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He didn't say a word, and his fingers barely moved as he held a green line reasonably steady on that screen. Mike the Angel, using unangelic language in a steady, muttering stream, worked to find the circuit that held the secret of the ruinous feedback tendency, while other powermen plugged and unplugged meter jacks, flipped switches, and juggled tools.
"Accumulators!" "700,000 kilofrank-hours all x." Having thus checked and tested every function of his department, Breckenridge plugged into "Captain," and when the green light went on: "Chief pilot check-out all x," he reported briefly. "All x," acknowledged the speaker, and the chief pilot unplugged.
He unplugged with a vicious jerk, and turned to the pilot with a grin. "Guess that'll hold him for a while, won't it?" "He'll report us, sure," remonstrated Breckenridge. The older man was plainly ill at ease at this open defiance of the supposedly infallible check-stations. "Not that baby," returned the computer confidently.
She looked at him silently, stricken. "I see our waiter returning," said Dark equably. "I trust you'll enjoy your meal as much as I'm going to enjoy mine, Miss Cara Nome." The waiter unplugged the telephone and lifted it from their table. "We're ready to order now," Maya said to him. "And please ask Mr. Gren to come in here." A few moments after the waiter left, the manager came to their table.
They checked in thirteen and eight-tenths seconds minus on the station, and a fiery dialogue ensued when the computer questioned the accuracy of the location of the station and refused point-blank to correct his course. "Well, Breck, old onion, that tears it," Stevens declared as he unplugged. "No use going any further on these bum reference points.
A few minutes later the ingot began to slide toward the bottom of the crucible. "There she goes," George said. "It's working." He opened the door of the kiln, and, using a different set of tongs, extracted the flask. He set the flask, glowing cherry red, upside down in a flat pan of sand. He shut off the gas and unplugged the blower.
Breckenridge studied his triplex chronometer intently, then unplugged and glanced around the control room, in various parts of which half a dozen assistants were loafing at their stations. "Control and power check-out Hipe!" he barked. "Driving converters and projectors!" The first assistant scanned his meters narrowly as he swung a multi-point switch in a flashing arc.
And it was not a bluff. He knew instinctively that the Connie commander meant it. Instantly he unplugged the radio connection from his belt and spoke urgently. "Koa, get everyone under cover in the cave. Hurry! Collect all the Connies and take them with you." Then he plugged in again. "Commander, I must have time to think this over." "You have one minute."
His right hand was thrust into his coat pocket. He seemed very calm. "Are you Elwood Caswell?" Rath asked. "The Elwood Caswell who bought a Regenerator early this afternoon at the Home Therapy Appliances Store?" "Yes," said Caswell. "Won't you come in?" Inside Caswell's small living room, they saw the Regenerator, glistening black and chrome, standing near the couch. It was unplugged.
Inside the newspaper office, he took out his scout knife and carefully slit the top of one cereal box. He removed the little radio from his pocket, unplugged the earphone, and put the radio on top of the cereal. He borrowed cellophane tape and taped the box shut, then he put both boxes of cereal back in the bag with the sugar on top. He handed the bag to Jerry. "Do your stuff."
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