‘I say, skipper,’ said the man whose face showed in the vision-plate, ‘what are you doing there? Someone monkeying with things?’
Scott, craning his neck at a painfully awkward angle and trying to see through the mud-smeared vision plates, kept a rattrap grip on his end of the pole, hoping its slickness would not slip through his fingers.
It was shortly after midnight—Laertes III had a twenty-six hour, sidereal time, day—when Jamieson saw a movement at the perimeter of his all-wave vision plate. Finger on blaster control, he waited for the object to come into sharper focus.
The smoke boiled and roiled and plummeted above the planet of Likk, and shock waves made blurs across the vision plate.
Under the spreading Whatsit Tree, in one of the cubicles, a young, short, round, dark-haired, dark-skinned man sat staring at the high-res vision plate set into the cubicle wall.
H. G. Winter, "Seed of the Arctic Ice"
Last modified 2020-12-16 04:08:47
In the compilation of some entries, HDSF has drawn extensively on corresponding entries in OED.