"Yes, sir. Clearance came through five minutes ago. They are holding it clear for us."
"Thank you. Miss Montandon, you may land at your convenience."
"Thank you, sir." Lola took the pilot's chair. "This is the scanner. I pull it over my face and head, so. Since I am always in tune with the field...."
"What does that mean?" Entlore asked, dark foreboding in his mind.
"I was afraid of that. You can't feel an Operator Field. I'm sorry, sir, but that means you can't handle these forces and never will be able to. Certain Gunther areas of your brain are inoperative. On our scale you are a Gunther First...."
"On ours, I'm an Esper Ten, the highest rating in the world—except for a few theoretical crackpots who.... Excuse me, please, I shouldn't have said that, in view of what I see happening here."
"No offense taken, sir. Those who developed the Gunther Drive were crackpots until they got the first starship out into space. But with this scanner on, I think of where I want to look and I can see it. I then think the ship a few miles sidewise—so—and we are now directly over your Pylon Six. I'm starting down, but I won't go into free fall."
Apparent weight grew less and less, until: "This is about enough for you, Miss Flurnoy?"
"Just," the ComOff agreed, with a gulp. "One pound less and I'm afraid I'll upchuck that lovely lunch I just ate."
"We're going fast enough now. Everyone sitting down? Brace yourselves, please. You'll be about fifty percent overweight for a while."