Nat shook his head. "Maybe I'll be able to make terms with him," he answered, and stepped out upon the vessel's deck.
The graybeard slammed the door and laughed savagely. "You'll make no terms with the Black Caesar," he said. "This is the reign of the proletariat. The bourgeois must die! So Lenin decreed!"
But he stopped suddenly and passed his hand over his forehead like a man awakening from a dream.
"Surely the proletariat has already triumphed on earth?" he asked. "A long time has passed, and daily we expect the summons to return and establish the new world-order. What year is this? Is it not 2017? It is so hard to reckon on Eros."
"On Eros?" thought Nat. "This is the year 2044," he answered. "You've been dreaming, my friend. We've had our new world-order, and it's not in the least like the one you and your friends anticipated."
"Gott!" screamed the old man. "Gott, you're lying to me, bourgeois! You're lying, I tell you!"
o Eros was their destination! Eros, one of the asteroids, those tiny fragments of a broken planet, lying outside the orbit of Mars. Some of these little worlds, of which more than a thousand are known to exist, are no larger than a gentleman's country estate; some are mere rocks in space. Eros, Nat knew, was distinguished among them from the fact that it had an eccentric orbit, which brought it at times nearer Earth than any other heavenly body except the Moon.
Also that it had only been known for thirty years, and that it was supposed to be a double planet, having a dark companion.