It was a numbing
noise. It was almost a paralyzing noise. But Jamison talked with
professional smoothness.
"This planet," he orated, while pictures from Bell's camera went direct
to the transmitter below, "this planet is the first world other than
Earth on which a human ship has landed. It is paradoxic that before men
have walked on Mars' red iron-oxide plains and breathed its thin cold
air, or fought for life in the formaldehyde gales of Venus, that they
should look upon a world which welcomes them from illimitable
remoteness. Here we descend, and all mankind can watch our descent upon
a world whose vegetation is green; whose glaciers prove that there is
air and water in plenty, whose very smoking volcanoes assure us of its
close kinship to Earth!"
He lifted the mike away from his throat and framed words with his lips.
"_Am I still on?_" Cochrane nodded. Cochrane wore headphones carrying
what the communicator carried, as this broadcast went through an angled
Dabney field relay system back to Lunar City and then to Earth. He spoke
close to Jamison's ear.
"Go ahead! If your voice fades, it will be the best possible sign-off.
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