emendations? Very well, I'll circulate this for signatures as read. I'll want your addresses, too."
Somebody groaned but Doc called from his post in the sand: "That's right, Doddsy, nail it down!" The Little Man presented his clipboard to the two women nearest him.
One giggled hysterically, the other grabbed his pen and signed..
Paul called down to Doc: "Are you getting any movement yet?"
"Not anything I can be sure of," the latter said, standing up carefully so as not to disturb the deep-thrust umbrella. "It's certainly not anything in a nearby orbit." He climbed back on the platform. "Anybody here got a telescope or binoculars?" he asked loudly but not very hopefully. "Opera glasses?" He waited a moment longer, then shrugged. "That's typical," he said to Paul, removing his glasses to polish them and to massage around his eyes. "What a bunch of greenhorns!"
Hunter's bearded face brightened. "Anybody here got a radio?" he called out.
"I have," said the thin woman sitting on the floor with the Ramrod.
"Good, then get us a news station," Hunter told her.
She said, "I'll get KFAC—that's got classical music with regular traffic bulletins and news flashes."
He commented, "If they're seeing it in New York or Buenos Aires, say, we'll know it has to be high."
Margo was studying the Wanderer again when someone jogged her elbow, the one away from the cat. The Little Man said to her pleasantly: "My name is Clarence Dodd.
You are…?"
"Margo Gelhorn," she told him. "Is that huge beast your dog, Mr. Dodd?"
"Yes, he is," he said quickly, with a bright smile. "May I have your signature on this document?"
"Oh, please!" she said sourly, looking up again at the Wanderer overhead.
"You'll be sorry," the Little Man assured her peaceably. "The one time I saw a plausible saucer I omitted to get signed statements from the four people in the car with me. A week later they were all saying it was something else."
Margo shrugged, then went to the edge of the platform and said: "Paul, I think the purple half is getting smaller and there's a purple streak down the outside edge of the yellow half that wasn't there before."
"She's right," several people said. Doc fumbled at his slipping glasses, but before he could get a word out Hunter said: "It's rotating. It must be a sphere!"
Suddenly the Wanderer, which Paul had been seeing as flat, rounded itself out.
There was something unspeakably strange about the hidden and utterly unknown other side crawling into view.
Doc raised a hand. "It's rotating toward the east," he asserted. "That is, this side of it is—which means that it is rotating retrograde to Earth and most of the other planets of our solar system."
"My God, Bill, now we get astronomy lessons," the woman in pale gray carped in a low, sardonic voice to the man beside her.
The thin woman's portable radio came on, quite weakly except for the static. The music, what there was of it, had a galloping, surging rhythm. After a moment Paul recognized Wagner's "The Ride of the Valkyries," sounding, out here in the great open, as if it were being played by an orchestra of mice.
Don Merriam was almost halfway back to the Hut, his boots kicking up dust as he hurried with care across the lightening plain, when Johannsen's voice sounded crisply by his ear. He stopped.
Johannsen said: "Get this, Don. You are not to re-enter the Hut. You are to board Ship One and prepare for solo take-off."
Don suppressed the impulse to say: "But Yo—"
The other chuckled approvingly at his silence and continued: "I know we've never flown them solo except in practice on the mock-up, but this is orders from the top.
Dufresne's suited up. He'll join you in Ship Two. I'll be in Baba Yaga Three to relay back to Gompert at base, who'll relay to HQ Earth. On order you and Dufresne will take off.
You will reconnoiter the northern half, and he, the southern, of the object behind Luna that's making the yellow and purple light. It's hard to believe, but HQ
Somebody groaned but Doc called from his post in the sand: "That's right, Doddsy, nail it down!" The Little Man presented his clipboard to the two women nearest him.
One giggled hysterically, the other grabbed his pen and signed..
Paul called down to Doc: "Are you getting any movement yet?"
"Not anything I can be sure of," the latter said, standing up carefully so as not to disturb the deep-thrust umbrella. "It's certainly not anything in a nearby orbit." He climbed back on the platform. "Anybody here got a telescope or binoculars?" he asked loudly but not very hopefully. "Opera glasses?" He waited a moment longer, then shrugged. "That's typical," he said to Paul, removing his glasses to polish them and to massage around his eyes. "What a bunch of greenhorns!"
Hunter's bearded face brightened. "Anybody here got a radio?" he called out.
"I have," said the thin woman sitting on the floor with the Ramrod.
"Good, then get us a news station," Hunter told her.
She said, "I'll get KFAC—that's got classical music with regular traffic bulletins and news flashes."
He commented, "If they're seeing it in New York or Buenos Aires, say, we'll know it has to be high."
Margo was studying the Wanderer again when someone jogged her elbow, the one away from the cat. The Little Man said to her pleasantly: "My name is Clarence Dodd.
You are…?"
"Margo Gelhorn," she told him. "Is that huge beast your dog, Mr. Dodd?"
"Yes, he is," he said quickly, with a bright smile. "May I have your signature on this document?"
"Oh, please!" she said sourly, looking up again at the Wanderer overhead.
"You'll be sorry," the Little Man assured her peaceably. "The one time I saw a plausible saucer I omitted to get signed statements from the four people in the car with me. A week later they were all saying it was something else."
Margo shrugged, then went to the edge of the platform and said: "Paul, I think the purple half is getting smaller and there's a purple streak down the outside edge of the yellow half that wasn't there before."
"She's right," several people said. Doc fumbled at his slipping glasses, but before he could get a word out Hunter said: "It's rotating. It must be a sphere!"
Suddenly the Wanderer, which Paul had been seeing as flat, rounded itself out.
There was something unspeakably strange about the hidden and utterly unknown other side crawling into view.
Doc raised a hand. "It's rotating toward the east," he asserted. "That is, this side of it is—which means that it is rotating retrograde to Earth and most of the other planets of our solar system."
"My God, Bill, now we get astronomy lessons," the woman in pale gray carped in a low, sardonic voice to the man beside her.
The thin woman's portable radio came on, quite weakly except for the static. The music, what there was of it, had a galloping, surging rhythm. After a moment Paul recognized Wagner's "The Ride of the Valkyries," sounding, out here in the great open, as if it were being played by an orchestra of mice.
Don Merriam was almost halfway back to the Hut, his boots kicking up dust as he hurried with care across the lightening plain, when Johannsen's voice sounded crisply by his ear. He stopped.
Johannsen said: "Get this, Don. You are not to re-enter the Hut. You are to board Ship One and prepare for solo take-off."
Don suppressed the impulse to say: "But Yo—"
The other chuckled approvingly at his silence and continued: "I know we've never flown them solo except in practice on the mock-up, but this is orders from the top.
Dufresne's suited up. He'll join you in Ship Two. I'll be in Baba Yaga Three to relay back to Gompert at base, who'll relay to HQ Earth. On order you and Dufresne will take off.
You will reconnoiter the northern half, and he, the southern, of the object behind Luna that's making the yellow and purple light. It's hard to believe, but HQ
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