The pilot—Joe Falk—spoke over the intercom to see if he was all right. He said he was. This was the signal for Dundon, from Earth, to cut in. They spoke back and forth, not saying very much, with cold shivers running through them, while Falk maneuvered into position. From his seat below the pilot Web could see nothing but wires, tubing, and a heavy stanchion. He waited. Eventually Falk said:
"Okay Web. In orbit. She's all yours."
Web took a deep breath. Dundon was speaking in his ear.
"Now watch yourself and tell me everything you see. Open the door and let's go."
Web freed himself from his straps, floated cautiously, hand over hand, to the hatch. Falk was right behind him. He spun the hatch and opened it, went through the airlock to the outer door, stepped out into space.
In the great blazing sea in which he found himself he paused for a second, immobile. The stars were brilliant beyond belief. He had forgotten that they would be of different colors, not just dull shades as seen from Earth, and the fiery reds, the yellows, the cool blues and blazing oranges stunned him. He held tight to the airlock, absorbing it all, while Falk came out behind him.
"God!" Web breathed.
"Wassamatter, wassamatter!" Dundon was immediately shouting.
"Nothing," Web said quickly, "I was just looking at the stars."
Dundon muttered something dark and profane. "To hell with the stars! Maybe that's what will get you. Man, watch the things that are close!"