He put his hand out and touched the ladder. The rungs were flaked with heavy rust beneath his finger. "This is not my rocket!"
"It's my rocket," said Joseph's disembodied voice, from somewhere above his head.
Wellesley cursed him.
"It's the fastest ship in the universe," Joseph said. "Where you going?"
Black anger possessed him, but the keen instinct of orientation common to men who have lived in interstellar space worked for his salvation. He might have blundered into the swamp, but he did not. Instead he came up, after a terrible half-hour, against the wall of a building which, by its immense extent, could only have been the warehouse. He moved along its sheer, featureless side until he came to a door, which reoriented him, then struck out in the direction that he guessed the daub-hut to be.
He bumped against it at last, located its door, flung himself in and thankfully bolted it behind him.
But he was not alone. She was there, waiting for him. He started when she spoke.
"Where have you been?" she breathed. "I have been terrified. I found the hut empty and I was sure that you were dead."
"Like a bad penny," he said, "I return. But your being here is good fortune. I am certain that you will consent to leading a blind man to his ship without resorting to childish trickery. In fact, I shall make sure of it."