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FORBIDDEN PLANET SHE WAS a large hunk of ship, was Sally Ann, too large and too imposing for the name she bore. She stood proudly in her berth at Port Forlorn, dwarfing cranes and gantries and administration buildings, towering high above Rimstar and Rimbound, both typical units of the Rim Runners' fleet. Yet, to the trained eye of a spaceman, a relationship between Sally Ann and the smaller vessels would have been obvious—all three bore the unmistakable stamp of the Interstellar Transport Commission and all three had come down in the Universe. Sally Ann, for all her outward smartness, had come down the furthest; she had been a Beta Class liner, and now she was tramping. Rimstar and Rimbound had been Epsilon Class tramps and now they were dignified with the name of cargo liners. Commodore Grimes, Astronautical Superintendent for Rim Runners, looked out from the window of his office towards the big ship, screwing up his eyes against the steely glare of the westering sun. His hard, pitted face softened momentarily as he said, "I'm sorry, Captain. We can't use her. She just won't fit into any of our trades." "Fletcher, your Agent on Van Diemen's Planet, assured |
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