There was a momentary throbbing sound
which was not quite a sound.
"Take it away," said Jones in a flat voice.
The man in the strap-chair pressed hard on the controls. Cochrane
glanced desperately out of one of the side ports. He saw the
moonscape--the frozen lava sea with its layer of whitish-tan moondust.
He saw many moon-jeeps gathered near, as if most of the population of
Lunar City had been gathered to watch this event. He saw the
extraordinary nearness of the moon's horizon.
But it was the most momentary of glimpses. As he opened his mouth to
roar a protest, he felt the upward, curiously comforting thrust of
acceleration to one full Earth-gravity.
The moonscape was snatched away from beneath the ship. It did not
descend. The ship did not seem to rise. The moon itself diminished and
vanished like a pricked bubble. The speed of its disappearance was
not--it specifically was not--attributable to one earth-gravity of lift
applied on a one-sixth-gravity moon.
The loudspeaker hiccoughed and was silent. Cochrane uttered the roar he
had started before the added acceleration began. But it was useless. Out
the side-port, he saw the stars.
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