Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 28, 2025
"I hope he reported to the bridge. Commander Jeffers will be getting frantic, but he can't leave the bridge unless he's relieved. Come on, let's move." They sprinted down the companionway. The lights had been out less than five minutes when Mike the Angel and Chief Powerman's Mate Multhaus reached the low-power center of the Power Section.
Both of the men were checking the readings of the instruments. A computerman second class was punching the readings into the small table calculator as Multhaus read off the numbers. "I think she weathered it, sir," the chief said cautiously, "but she sure took a devil of a beating. And look at the power factor readings! We were tossing away energy as though we were S-Doradus or something."
When Mike the Angel opened the door of the Power Section's instrument room, he came upon a strange sight. Lieutenant Keku and Chief Multhaus were seated across a table from each other, each with his right elbow on the table, their right hands clasped. The muscles in both massive arms stood out beneath the scarlet tunics. Neither man was moving. "Games, children?" asked Mike gently. Whap!
And Mike the Angel knew perfectly well that he was silhouetted against that glow. Whoever it was who was waiting for him could see him plainly. Multhaus' footsteps rang in the corridor while Mike strained his eyes to see what was before him in the darkness. And all the time, the glow became brighter as Multhaus approached.
Behind him were Chief Multhaus, also armed with a stun gun, and four members of the power crew, each armed with a heavy spanner. Mike or the chief could take care of Mellon; it would be the crew's job to take care of Snookums. "Smash his treads and his waldoes," Mike had told them, "but only if he attacks. Before you try anything else, give him an order to halt.
The chief's arm slammed to the table with a bang that sounded as if the table had shattered. Multhaus had allowed Mike's entrance to distract him, while Lieutenant Keku had held out just an instant longer. Both men leaped to their feet, Multhaus valiantly trying not to nurse his bruised hand. "Sorry, sir," said Multhaus. "We were just " "Ne' mind. I saw. Who usually wins?" Mike asked.
Multhaus, who had been understandably pessimistic about the ship's ability to lift herself from the surface of even a moderate-sized planet like Earth, looked with new respect upon the man who had designed the power plant that had done the job. Mike the Angel called the bridge and informed Captain Quill that the ship was ready for full acceleration.
You not only have to judge time, but magnitude; overcompensation is ruinous, too. Multhaus, the Chief Powerman's Mate, sat behind the emergency board, a vernier dial in each hand and both eyes on an oscilloscope screen. His red, beefy face was corded and knotted with tension, and his skin glistened with oily perspiration.
Snookums rolled over to the board where Multhaus was sitting and watched over his shoulder for perhaps thirty seconds. The crewmen eyed him, but they were much too busy to do anything. Besides, they were used to his presence by this time. Then, in one quick tour of the room, Snookums glanced at every meter in the place.
"But we're not going to get down any other way. We managed to take off without jets; we'll manage to land without them." "Yessir," said Multhaus, "but we took off with the grain of Earth's magnetic field. We're landing across the grain." "Sure," said Mike. "So what? If we overlook the motors, that's okay.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking