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Updated: May 12, 2025
Restless, unable to sleep, he had quietly slipped from his cabin in the fore section, where the unmarried Crewmen lived, and had headed forward to the main viewscreen, in order to stare at the green planet growing steadily larger just ahead. He stood with his arms folded, a tall red-headed figure, long-legged, a little on the thin side. Today was his seventeenth birthday.
We've scoured the ship." "You think he just floated away in his space suit?" Doc growled. "Find him. Tawney only needs one of them, but we can't take a chance on the other one getting back...." He broke off, his eyes on the viewscreen. "Did you check those scout ships?" "No, I thought...." "Get down there and check them." Doc turned back to the viewscreen impatiently.
To tell the truth, it was he who organized this march. Thought they'd be better employed coming here to petition you than milling around the University getting into further mischief." The other officer also returned, bringing a portable viewscreen with him on a contragravity-lifter.
As Alan drew out his Tally and prepared to click off the start of a new day, he felt a strong hand firmly grasp his shoulder. "Morning, son." Alan turned from the viewscreen. He saw the tall, gaunt figure of his father standing behind him. His father and the Valhalla's captain. "Good rising, Captain." Captain Donnell eyed him curiously. "You've been up a while, Alan. I can tell.
They were avoiding the proximity of Paul as though he had the green death. The viewscreen came on, and in it the city, as seen from an aircar at two thousand feet, spread out with the Palace visible in the distance, the golden pile of the Octagon Tower jutting up from it.
"A subcrit display job, about four miles over the city." He laid the phone down and looked to the underside viewscreen. A little later, a silvery shape dropped away from the ship's south pole. The telescopic screen went off, and the unmagnified screen darkened as the filters went on. Valkanhayn, aboard the other ship, was shouting a warning about his own screens.
He slid into the control seat, flipped the drive switches to fire the side jets in opposite pairs. They fired, steadying the lurching of the ship somewhat, but there was no response from the main engines. "No good. We couldn't begin to run from them. We're stuck here." "They could outrun us anyway," Tom said, watching the viewscreen. "And they're moving in closer now."
In fact, I can't get a message out at all. These people are jamming our radios." "But why?" Dal said. "I don't know, but take a look outside there." Through the viewscreen it seemed as though the whole field around the ship had filled up with the crowd.
Just short of two hours later, the Lancet shifted back to normal space drive, and the cold yellow sun of the Moruan system swam into sight in the viewscreen. Far below, the tiny eighth planet glistened like a snowball in the reflection of the sun, with only occasional rents in the cloud blanket revealing the ragged surface below.
"Too bad we can't just issue everybody new servile gorgets marked, Personal Property of his Imperial Majesty and let it go at that. But I guess we can't." "Commodore Shatrak, you are joking," Erskyll began. "I hope I am," Shatrak replied grimly. The top landing-stage of the Citadel grew and filled the forward viewscreen of the ship's launch.
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