The acceleration
must have been as great as the shock of a meteor hitting Luna.
"You can consider," Cochrane told them, "that I am now an angel, if you
like. But how about getting a statement from Dabney?"
A press-association man, back on Luna, uttered the first profanity ever
to travel faster than light.
"All he can talk about," he said savagely, "is how wonderful he is! He
agrees with the Observatory that you must all be dead. He said so. Can
you give us any evidence that you're alive and out in space? Visual
evidence, for broadcast?"
At this moment the entire fabric of the space-ship moved slightly. There
was no sound of rockets. The ship seemed to turn a little, but that was
all. No gravity. No acceleration. It was a singularly uncomfortable
sensation, on top of the discomfort of weightlessness.
Cochrane said sardonically:
"If you can't take my word that I'm alive, I'll try to get you some
proof! Hm. I'll send you some pictures of the star-fields around us.
Shoot them to observatories back on Earth and let them figure out for
themselves where we are! Displacement of the relative positions of the
stars ought to let them figure things out!"
He left the communicator-board.
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