The pilot who sat abstemiously on the edge of his seat threw a bunch of fingers at the cookie can. He was a short, pulpy man with eyes that looked as though they had seen stars topple and blinked for the dryness.
"Never seen anything like that hanging in the sky, did you?" he asked.
Condemeign frowned. He edged an eye toward the sun, gaudy in its necklace of gas and stars.
"What about the moon?" he said. "What about half of that thing with its guts coming out?"
The guide smiled gently.
"Quite impossible, Mr. Condemeign. Nepenthe is surrounded by a force screen that could deflect a planet."
Condemeign brooded.
"With that sort of invulnerability, someone might...."
"Someone tried. And after that, even the sun wouldn't have him. He's poking out around the Andromeda nebula, now, quite helpless, of course. He can't turn the power off. Not in his lifetime, anyway."
A wide mouth gaped in the now faintly visible force screen through which an ordinary blue light ray pulsed, serving as a beam, and the tender turned slowly, pointing its narrow nose at the welcoming maw.