might be located. I'll have to do it visually, and you know how deceptive it can be. I could accidentally miss and end up crashing through into . . . oh, the half-G gardens? With a full and explosive load."
"Uh. Oh. Uh. Don't . . . Don't do anything. We . . . We will give you coordinates shortly."
"Certainly," Klaavil said, magnanimously. "I'm not an unreasonable man. You have a full three minutes. I'm setting my timer."
He looked at me and, rather deliberately, winked. The effect was only mildly disrupted by the fact that inner, nictating eyelids blinked the other way first. I was speechless. The same haughtiness and high handedness was not all that bad, I thought, provided he was on your side. Of course, the question with Kit Klaavil was which side he was on and exactly why. I wondered if he, himself, knew.
It didn't take three minutes. Or two. Or much more than one. A voice crackled over the Com, "Please come in at twenty two A by twenty four D."
It made no sense at all to me, but not only did it obviously make sense to Kit Klaavil—his hands moved purposely on the keyboard, playing their inaudible symphony of directions—but he raised his eyebrows as he did so. I thought that whatever the move the other side had made surprised him, and I wondered how exactly. He didn't seem upset, more curious.
The ship swayed gently this way and that, and I settled in for what I expected to be interminable hours. After all, to land daddy's space cruiser in Circum, which was considerably smaller than the Primeval Potato took the best part of a week. It would take at least hours here, even accounting for coordinates and however improved their steering mechanism might be.
Only the potato exploded. At least it looked to me as if it exploded, though as I blinked, I realized it was shooting something like a sleeve towards us. The sleeve covered the screen, giving the impression that we were being swallowed whole.
We flew down what felt like a tunnel, though I had no other indication than the view screen and Kit was too busy doing whatever he did on his console to answer my questions.
After a long while it felt like we came to rest on something. Kit, carefully, slid his foot along the lever that I now knew turned off artificial gravity. I braced for my body to be only held on the seat by the belts, but nothing happened. Kit nodded. "Eden artificial gravity field," he said. "It encompasses us." As he spoke, he unbuckled himself and stood up, then gave me an uncertain look. "Would you rather . . . uh . . . put on the dress you had when you came into the Cathouse?"
"I . . . it was a slip!" I protested.
"I don't think anyone in Eden would know that," he said. Then shrugged. "As long as you don't think you're ill dressed or . . ."
I shrugged in turn. I might as well be seen in a hand-me down glimmering grey pants and tunic suit which if anything ended up molding my curves rather too well, as in a hastily mended slip. If my captor's handling of the situation was any indication, my arrival here already wasn't a rousing success.
"I'm sorry," he told me, as we walked along a corridor which I assumed must lead to an exit. "About the confusion up there," He pointed vaguely upwards, which I assumed to mean the exterior of the asteroid, because, at least as I understood it, we were not on the asteroid but inside it. At least that accounted for the fact that I hadn't seen any cities or constructions on the outside. And it made perfect sense. It was not only a way to hide their presence from any stray Earth telescopes turned this way but also probably the most efficient way of colonizing an asteroid. Provided they contrived a way to bring sunlight within—and I was sure they had one—the interior area could be much larger than the exterior because the world could be colonized in layers. "They truly would sit there and dither forever because there was no precedent . . ."
I was amused and for once completely in sympathy
"Uh. Oh. Uh. Don't . . . Don't do anything. We . . . We will give you coordinates shortly."
"Certainly," Klaavil said, magnanimously. "I'm not an unreasonable man. You have a full three minutes. I'm setting my timer."
He looked at me and, rather deliberately, winked. The effect was only mildly disrupted by the fact that inner, nictating eyelids blinked the other way first. I was speechless. The same haughtiness and high handedness was not all that bad, I thought, provided he was on your side. Of course, the question with Kit Klaavil was which side he was on and exactly why. I wondered if he, himself, knew.
It didn't take three minutes. Or two. Or much more than one. A voice crackled over the Com, "Please come in at twenty two A by twenty four D."
It made no sense at all to me, but not only did it obviously make sense to Kit Klaavil—his hands moved purposely on the keyboard, playing their inaudible symphony of directions—but he raised his eyebrows as he did so. I thought that whatever the move the other side had made surprised him, and I wondered how exactly. He didn't seem upset, more curious.
The ship swayed gently this way and that, and I settled in for what I expected to be interminable hours. After all, to land daddy's space cruiser in Circum, which was considerably smaller than the Primeval Potato took the best part of a week. It would take at least hours here, even accounting for coordinates and however improved their steering mechanism might be.
Only the potato exploded. At least it looked to me as if it exploded, though as I blinked, I realized it was shooting something like a sleeve towards us. The sleeve covered the screen, giving the impression that we were being swallowed whole.
We flew down what felt like a tunnel, though I had no other indication than the view screen and Kit was too busy doing whatever he did on his console to answer my questions.
After a long while it felt like we came to rest on something. Kit, carefully, slid his foot along the lever that I now knew turned off artificial gravity. I braced for my body to be only held on the seat by the belts, but nothing happened. Kit nodded. "Eden artificial gravity field," he said. "It encompasses us." As he spoke, he unbuckled himself and stood up, then gave me an uncertain look. "Would you rather . . . uh . . . put on the dress you had when you came into the Cathouse?"
"I . . . it was a slip!" I protested.
"I don't think anyone in Eden would know that," he said. Then shrugged. "As long as you don't think you're ill dressed or . . ."
I shrugged in turn. I might as well be seen in a hand-me down glimmering grey pants and tunic suit which if anything ended up molding my curves rather too well, as in a hastily mended slip. If my captor's handling of the situation was any indication, my arrival here already wasn't a rousing success.
"I'm sorry," he told me, as we walked along a corridor which I assumed must lead to an exit. "About the confusion up there," He pointed vaguely upwards, which I assumed to mean the exterior of the asteroid, because, at least as I understood it, we were not on the asteroid but inside it. At least that accounted for the fact that I hadn't seen any cities or constructions on the outside. And it made perfect sense. It was not only a way to hide their presence from any stray Earth telescopes turned this way but also probably the most efficient way of colonizing an asteroid. Provided they contrived a way to bring sunlight within—and I was sure they had one—the interior area could be much larger than the exterior because the world could be colonized in layers. "They truly would sit there and dither forever because there was no precedent . . ."
I was amused and for once completely in sympathy
Similar Books
