"... As a strictly practical matter, a man who has to leave a task that he has finished, and wishes it to remain as he leaves it, usually finds it necessary to give the credit for his work to someone who will remain on the spot and will thereby be moved to protect and defend it so long as he lives...."
Manual, Interstellar Medical Service. Pp. 167-8.
Murgatroyd tugged at Calhoun and shrilled anxiously into his ear.
"Chee-chee!" he cried frantically. "Chee-chee-chee!"
Calhoun blinked open his eyes. There was a crashing sound and the Med ship swayed upon its landing-fins. It almost went over. It teetered horribly, and then slowly swung back past uprightness and tilted nearly as far in the opposite direction. There were crunching sounds as the soil partly gave way beneath one landing fin.
Then Calhoun waked thoroughly. In one movement he was up and launching himself across the cabin to the control-chair. There was another violent impact. He swept his hand across the row of studs which turned on all sources of information and communication. The screens came on, and the spacephone, and the outside mikes and loud-speakers, and even the planetary communication unit which would have reported had there been any use of the electromagnetic spectrum in the atmosphere of this planet.
Bedlam filled the cabin. From the spacephone speaker a stentorian voice shouted:
"This is our last word! Permit our landing or—"
A thunderous detonation was reported by the outside mikes. The Med ship fairly bounced. There was swirling white smoke outside the ship. It was mid-morning, now, and the giant lacy structure of the landing-grid was silhouetted against a deep-blue sky. There were cracklings from some electric storm perhaps a thousand miles away. There were shoutings, also brought in by the outside mikes.