like speed. Kieran knew that this was merely an
ironic little joke, because now they were proceeding at something in the
range of normal velocity, whereas before their speed had been quite
beyond his comprehension. But he could comprehend this. He could feel
it. They were going like a bat out of hell, and somewhere ahead of them
was a planet, and he was closed in, blind, a mouse in a nose-cone. His
insides writhed with helplessness and the imminence of a crash. He
wanted very much to start screaming again, but Paula was watching him.

In a few moments that desire became academic. A whistling shriek began
faintly outside the hull and built swiftly to a point where nothing
could have been heard above it. Atmosphere. And somewhere under the
blind wall of the flitter a rock-hard world-face reeling and rushing,
leaping to meet them--

* * * * *

The flitter slowed. It seemed to hang motionless, quivering faintly.
Then it dropped. Express elevator in the world's tallest building, top
to bottom--only the elevator is a bubble and the wind is tossing it from
side to side as it drops and there is no bottom.

They hung again, bounding lightly on the unseen wind.

Then down.

And hang again.

And down.

Paula said suddenly, "Webber. Webber, I think he's dying." She began to
unstrap.

Kieran said faintly, "Am I turning green?"

She looked at him, frowning. "Yes."

"A simple old malady. I'm seasick. Tell Webber to quit playing
humming-bird and put this thing down."

Paula made an impatient gesture and tightened her belt again.

Hang and drop. Once more, twice more. A little rocking bounce, a light
thump, motion ceased. Webber turned a series of switches. Silence.

Kieran said, "Air?"

* * * * *

Webber opened a hatch in the side of the cabin. Light poured in. It had
to be sunlight, Kieran knew, but it was a queer color, a sort of tawny
orange that carried a pleasantly burning heat. He got loose with Paula
helping him and tottered to the hatch. The air smelled of clean
sun-warmed dust and some kind of vegetation. Kieran climbed out of the
flitter, practically throwing himself out in his haste. He wanted solid
ground under him, he didn't care whose or where.

And as his boots thumped onto the red-ochre sand, it occurred to him
that it had been a very long time since he had had solid ground
underfoot. A very long time indeed--

His insides knotted up a