She didn't deign to answer, unless you counted her butting him in the nose. He had to yell for help to frog-march her aboard ship.
"Pallas Castle calling NASS Altair. Come in, Altair."
The great ovoid swung clear in space, among a million cold stars. The asteroid had dwindled out of sight. A radio beam flickered across emptiness. Within the hull, the crew and a hundred refugees sat jammed together. The air was thick with their breath and sweat and waiting.
Blades and Chung, seated by the transmitter, felt another kind of thickness, the pull of the internal field. Earth-normal weight dragged down every movement; the enclosed cabin began to feel suffocatingly small. We'd get used to it again pretty quickly, Blades thought. Our bodies would, that is. But our own selves, tied down to Earth forever—no.
The vision screen jumped to life. "NASS Altair acknowledging Pallas Castle," said the uniformed figure within.
"O.K., Charlie, go outside and don't let anybody else enter," Chung told his own operator.
The spaceman gave him a quizzical glance, but obeyed. "I wish to report that evacuation of the Sword is now complete," Chung said formally.
"Very good, sir," the Navy face replied. "I'll inform my superiors."
"Wait, don't break off yet. We have to talk with your captain."