Somewhere before them, precisely how far they could not know, was the lost Orion.
“I think,” mused Nick, “that the reason for the odd feeling is that we are so vitally aware of the planet’s rotation. After all, Earth is no laggard, either, but it’s so damned big in comparison to this, and so few people, relatively have been off it as yet. What I mean is: if your knowledge of Hastur’s rotation were strictly theoretical, or if you hadn’t seen it from space, the whole thing wouldn’t appear to you as it does now.”
The going was just a trifle more difficult than covering rocky ground would have been on Earth: Vickers had figured Hastur’s gravity as 125% that of Earth.
“Hold it,” called out Edgar, punctuating the exclamation by easing himself onto the asteroid’s surface. “Does anyone know where we’re going?”
“We’re off to find the Hartnetts,” said Dorothy.
“How nice. And where, pray, may they be?”
“Right here—somewhere.”
“Lovely,” drawled Edgar, “just lovely. Have any of you stopped to consider how many days and how many weary miles you can cover on this not-as-small-as-it-looks world without finding anything at all except blisters?”
“We tried to contact them,” cut in Nick, “but not a peep out of the radio at all. The thing just went dead.”
“I’ll have to admit,” continued Edgar, “that at the very moment I can’t think of any better procedure than just striking out in any direction at once. But I rest assured that there is a better way. Therefore, I move that we take it easy until we find one.”