and planet had widened a little while they'd been speaking.
"I think we'd better be getting a move on, ourselves," Doc said in an oddly distant way, stooping for his corner of the cot.
"Right," Hunter seconded brusquely.
Great rotary pumps surged, moving water to the port side of the "Prince Charles" to compensate for the weight of the passengers and crewmen lining the starboard rails and crowding the starboard portholes to watch the Wanderer and the moon set in the Atlantic, while dawn paled the sky behind them unnoticed. The thickness of Earth's atmosphere had turned the purple of the planet red and its gold orange. Its wake across the calm sea was spectacular.
The radio engineer of the atom-liner reported to Captain Sithwise a very unusual and growing amount of static.
Don Guillermo Walker managed to land his airplane on the south end of Lake Nicaragua near the mouth of the San Juan River, despite the broken left aileron and the half-dozen holes struck or burnt through the wings by chunks of red-hot pumice. What the devil, the big rock had missed him!
The volcano on Ometepe was now joined by its brother peak, Madera, and they were sending twin ruddy pillars skyward almost fifty miles northwest. And now, passing all expectation on such a crazy opening night, he saw wink on, scarcely a mile away, the twin red flares the Araiza brothers had promised would guide him to the launch. Caramba, que fidelidadl He'd never accuse another Latin American of frivolity or faithlessness.
Suddenly the reflection of the Wanderer in the black lake shattered toward him. He saw the sinister water formations, like low wide steps, approaching him. Barely in time, he headed the plane around into them. The old Seabee mounted the first successfully, though with a great heave and splash. Earthquake or landslide waves!
Chapter Eleven
Doc puffed out rapidly: "I don't care how near we are to the gate, I got to rest." He lowered his corner of the cot to the sand and knelt there, arm on knee and with bald head bent, panting.
"Your evil life catching up with you," Hunter jeered lightly, then muttered to Margo:
"We better go easy on the old goat. He normally gets about as much exercise as a Thuringer sausage."
"I can take over again," eagerly volunteered the one who had had Doc's corner earlier—a thin-faced high school student who had ridden to the symposium from Oxnard with Wojtowicz.
"Better we all have a breather, Harry," the latter said. "Professor—" He addressed himself to Hunter. "It looks to me the moon's slowed down again. Like back to normal."
All of them except the fat woman studied the situation in the western sky. Even Doc raised his head while continuing to gasp. Unquestionably the black isthmus between the Wanderer and the moon hadn't widened during the last short march.
"I think the moon's getting smaller,*' Ann said.
"So do I," the Little Man agreed. He squatted on his hams with an arm around Ragnarok and soothingly kneaded the huge dog's black-and-brown throat while he squinted upward. "And—I know this is utterly fantastic—but it looks to me as if the moon were becoming oblate, flattening a little from top to bottom, widening from side to side. Maybe it's just eyestrain, but I'll swear the moon's becoming egg-shaped, with one end of the egg pointing at the new planet."
"Yes," Ann told him shrilly. "And now I can see…oh, just the teensiest line going from the top of the moon to the bottom."
"Line?" the Little Man asked.
"Yes, like a crack," Ann told him.
The Broken Egg and the Dire Batching, the Ramrod thought. It comes to pass as I foretold.
Ispan-Serpent fecundates and the White Virgin gives birth.
"I must confess I don't see that," the Little Man said.
"You've got to look very close," Ann told him.
"I'll take your word for it," Wojtowicz said. "Kids got sharp eyes."
Doc gasped excitedly, "If there's a crack up there that any of us can see, it must be miles across."
Hunter said slowly and heavily,
"I think we'd better be getting a move on, ourselves," Doc said in an oddly distant way, stooping for his corner of the cot.
"Right," Hunter seconded brusquely.
Great rotary pumps surged, moving water to the port side of the "Prince Charles" to compensate for the weight of the passengers and crewmen lining the starboard rails and crowding the starboard portholes to watch the Wanderer and the moon set in the Atlantic, while dawn paled the sky behind them unnoticed. The thickness of Earth's atmosphere had turned the purple of the planet red and its gold orange. Its wake across the calm sea was spectacular.
The radio engineer of the atom-liner reported to Captain Sithwise a very unusual and growing amount of static.
Don Guillermo Walker managed to land his airplane on the south end of Lake Nicaragua near the mouth of the San Juan River, despite the broken left aileron and the half-dozen holes struck or burnt through the wings by chunks of red-hot pumice. What the devil, the big rock had missed him!
The volcano on Ometepe was now joined by its brother peak, Madera, and they were sending twin ruddy pillars skyward almost fifty miles northwest. And now, passing all expectation on such a crazy opening night, he saw wink on, scarcely a mile away, the twin red flares the Araiza brothers had promised would guide him to the launch. Caramba, que fidelidadl He'd never accuse another Latin American of frivolity or faithlessness.
Suddenly the reflection of the Wanderer in the black lake shattered toward him. He saw the sinister water formations, like low wide steps, approaching him. Barely in time, he headed the plane around into them. The old Seabee mounted the first successfully, though with a great heave and splash. Earthquake or landslide waves!
Chapter Eleven
Doc puffed out rapidly: "I don't care how near we are to the gate, I got to rest." He lowered his corner of the cot to the sand and knelt there, arm on knee and with bald head bent, panting.
"Your evil life catching up with you," Hunter jeered lightly, then muttered to Margo:
"We better go easy on the old goat. He normally gets about as much exercise as a Thuringer sausage."
"I can take over again," eagerly volunteered the one who had had Doc's corner earlier—a thin-faced high school student who had ridden to the symposium from Oxnard with Wojtowicz.
"Better we all have a breather, Harry," the latter said. "Professor—" He addressed himself to Hunter. "It looks to me the moon's slowed down again. Like back to normal."
All of them except the fat woman studied the situation in the western sky. Even Doc raised his head while continuing to gasp. Unquestionably the black isthmus between the Wanderer and the moon hadn't widened during the last short march.
"I think the moon's getting smaller,*' Ann said.
"So do I," the Little Man agreed. He squatted on his hams with an arm around Ragnarok and soothingly kneaded the huge dog's black-and-brown throat while he squinted upward. "And—I know this is utterly fantastic—but it looks to me as if the moon were becoming oblate, flattening a little from top to bottom, widening from side to side. Maybe it's just eyestrain, but I'll swear the moon's becoming egg-shaped, with one end of the egg pointing at the new planet."
"Yes," Ann told him shrilly. "And now I can see…oh, just the teensiest line going from the top of the moon to the bottom."
"Line?" the Little Man asked.
"Yes, like a crack," Ann told him.
The Broken Egg and the Dire Batching, the Ramrod thought. It comes to pass as I foretold.
Ispan-Serpent fecundates and the White Virgin gives birth.
"I must confess I don't see that," the Little Man said.
"You've got to look very close," Ann told him.
"I'll take your word for it," Wojtowicz said. "Kids got sharp eyes."
Doc gasped excitedly, "If there's a crack up there that any of us can see, it must be miles across."
Hunter said slowly and heavily,
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