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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-10 06:21:36 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-03-10 06:21:36 -0700 |
| commit | 0449df4956de2927659ea06c6fb0648fde0c421c (patch) | |
| tree | 6ab03783ff48179f0b2fa843e321d7b4aca35b86 | |
| parent | a50d18adc5ac55632d9ee1696133fa3fba898e6c (diff) | |
| -rw-r--r-- | 59345-0.txt | 5 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 59345-h/59345-h.htm | 66 |
2 files changed, 26 insertions, 45 deletions
diff --git a/59345-0.txt b/59345-0.txt index 599b9b7..af6a9b3 100644 --- a/59345-0.txt +++ b/59345-0.txt @@ -1015,9 +1015,4 @@ Outside the Moonbeam rode gently at anchor, tethered with new safety lines. - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slow Burn, by Henry Still - *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59345 *** diff --git a/59345-h/59345-h.htm b/59345-h/59345-h.htm index 2af9a9f..888655b 100644 --- a/59345-h/59345-h.htm +++ b/59345-h/59345-h.htm @@ -1,15 +1,10 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Slow Burn, by Henry Still. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> + <meta charset="utf-8"><title>Slow Burn | Project Gutenberg</title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" > - <style type="text/css"> + <style> body { margin-left: 10%; @@ -75,13 +70,11 @@ div.titlepage p { <div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59345 ***</div> - - <div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" width="349" height="500" alt=""/> + <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" style="width: 349px; height: 500px"> </div> -<hr class="chap" /> +<hr class="chap" > <div class="titlepage"> @@ -89,19 +82,19 @@ div.titlepage p { <h2>BY HENRY STILL</h2> -<p class="ph1"><i>The problems of space were multiple enough<br /> -without the opinions and treachery of Senator<br /> -McKelvie—who really put the "fat into the fire".<br /> +<p class="ph1"><i>The problems of space were multiple enough<br > +without the opinions and treachery of Senator<br > +McKelvie—who really put the "fat into the fire".<br > All Kevin had to do was get it out....</i></p> -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1955.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> +<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br > +Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1955.<br > +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br > the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> </div> -<hr class="chap" /> +<hr class="chap" > <p>"Tell 'em to look sharp, Bert. This pickup's got to be good." Kevin Morrow gulped the last of his coffee and felt its bitter acid gurgle @@ -185,7 +178,7 @@ will take care of the senator."</p> <p>"If he doesn't take care of us first," Kevin said darkly. "He'll be aboard in 15 minutes."</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>Dawn touched the High Sierras as the station whirled in from the Pacific, 500 miles high.</p> @@ -324,7 +317,7 @@ you escort him?"</p> <p>"Gordon!" Morrow said sharply. Max closed his mouth and guided the grumbling congressman up the tube.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>"Twenty minutes to blastoff," Bert reported.</p> @@ -675,7 +668,7 @@ thousands of miles of space. "Yes. Send the rocket!"</p> and fuel is adjusted to come into the old orbit. They can be rigged, I think, if there's enough time."</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>The coast of California loomed below them now, a brown fringe holding back the dazzling flood of the Pacific. They were 3000 miles above the @@ -707,7 +700,7 @@ the feeder rocket would make it. Unless maximum fuel had been adjusted carefully, it might orbit out of reach below them. Rescue fuel would take the place of a pilot.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>Anderson and Morrow floated clear of the huge wheel, turning lazily in the deceptive luxury of zero gravity. The familiar sensation of @@ -790,13 +783,13 @@ The last words were high and frantic.</p> <p>A group of tiny figures broke away from the rim of the space station. The tugmen were coming to help.</p> -<hr class="chap" /> +<hr class="chap" > <div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" width="349" height="500" alt=""/> + <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt="" style="width: 349px; height: 500px"> </div> -<hr class="chap" /> +<hr class="chap" > <p>Then Kevin grasped the hideous truth. There were not enough rocket pistols to bring the men to the full ship and return <i>with any reserve @@ -822,7 +815,7 @@ still could be brought to bear to lift the space station above its flaming destruction. But his tools were the stone axe of a primitive man trying to hack his way out of a forest fire.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>Eager hands pulled them back into the station. For a moment there were the reassuring sounds as their helmets were unscrewed. Then the @@ -904,7 +897,7 @@ was a flashing thing that lost meaning for him in the same instant. He knew that unless a miracle happened, ninety men in his command would meet the same fate.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>Like a perpetual motion machine, his brain kept reaching for something that could save his space station, his own people, the iron-nerved @@ -1043,7 +1036,7 @@ thermocouple dial.</p> <p>The dial said 100° F. While he watched it moved to 105, quickly to 110°.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>Five seconds more. A blinding pain of tension stabbed Kevin behind the eyes. But through the flashing colors of agony, he counted, slowly, @@ -1078,7 +1071,7 @@ radio circuit. "If it goes higher, there's nothing we can do."</p> <p>The cheer, then, was a ringing, deafening roar in the earphones. Jones thumped Kevin madly on the back and leaped in a grotesque dance of joy.</p> -<hr class="tb" /> +<hr class="tb" > <p>Morrow leaned back in the control chair, pressed tired fingers to his temples. He could not remember when he had slept.</p> @@ -1099,14 +1092,7 @@ got."</p> <p>Outside the Moonbeam rode gently at anchor, tethered with new safety lines.</p> - - - - - - - - <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 59345 ***</div> </body> </html> + |