TROUBLE ON TYCHO
By NELSON S. BOND
Isobar and his squeeze-pipes were the bane of
the Moon Station's existence. But there came
the day when his comrades found that the worth
of a man lies sometimes in his nuisance value.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories March 1943.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The audiophone buzzed thrice—one long, followed by two shorts—and Isobar Jones pressed the stud activating its glowing scanner-disc.
"Hummm?" he said absent-mindedly.
The selenoplate glowed faintly, and the image of the Dome Commander appeared.
"Report ready, Jones?"