It hung motionless between the Moon and the stars, an enormous cylindrical shape catching dull glints on its flanks and its blunt nose. He could only guess its size by the area of stars it blotted out, and even that was only a guess. It was big. Big enough.
It was not showing any lights at first, but then one came on, laying a hard white path across the empty blackness. Makvern's craft found the path and raced along it, slowing as it went, and presently vanished.
"What is it?" asked Wyatt, and Brinna said,
"Scout tender. You didn't think we were going all the way to Alpha Centauri in these skimmers, did you?"
Wyatt said, "I hadn't really thought about it, one way or the other."
Alpha Centauri, he thought. My God.
Brinna put the skimmer, as she called it, into the lighted guidepath.
"You're likely to have a fairly rough time of it," she said. "They will question you. They're not brutes, but they're thorough. I won't be able to do anything about that. But hang on, and I'll arrange your escape as soon as I can."
"Thank you," said Wyatt bitterly.
"If," said Brinna with equal bitterness, "you hadn't been in such a blazing hurry to make me go to Washington, you wouldn't be here. So don't blame me for all your troubles."