"Surprisingly, fine. I'd say that if everything checks through with a clean bill of health today I'll be leaving on tomorrow morning's liner. If."
Perhaps Farquhart had not meant the if to sound so ominous, but it came out that way because Socrates immediately associated it with what Norma had said the night before. He smiled a bit weakly now and readjusted his helmet. Then he mumbled, "I'll see you on Ganymede in a few years," and he went back in through the lock.
They cruised at fifteen miles a second, and within an hour they were passing under the outer ring. Automatically he lowered their speed.
Mrs. Entwhistle craned her neck upward, and through the top of her glassite helmet her face looked like a fish underwater. "I thought we go in the ring, Mr. Smith."
He nodded. "Of course we do. We're a thousand miles out now. See? If you look carefully, you probably can see some of the bigger particles shining."
"Um, yes."
"But we don't go in here. This is the outer ring and we pass under it. We also go under Cassini's Division—the dark band which separates this from the inner ring. I'll take you there, through the brighter ring, up to the border of the crepe one. But then we turn back. That would be dangerous."
"Why?"
"Because the crepe ring receives no sunlight. It's dark, that's why, and we'd have to rely on radar to keep the ship out of trouble. It's tricky business and it's dangerous. A little light flashes on and off and it tells you which way to steer, but unless you can see what you're doing—like you can in the bright ring, it's dangerous."