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. He had not asked for IDs,
tourist cards, passports, or motor vehicle pilot's licenses. But he had counted
that nineteen thousand twice. Plus insurance. Plus cumshaw.
I punched "213.6 kg" into my computer pilot, then checked my instrument
board. Fuel read "full" and all the idiot lights showed green. I pushed the
"ready" button and waited. Dockweiler's voice reached us via the speaker: "Happy
landing!"
"Thank you."
The air charge went Whwnpf! and we were out of the nest and in bright
sunlight. Ahead and close was the exterior of the spaceport. I squeezed the
process control for a one-eighty reverse. As we swung, the habitat moved away
and into my left viewport; ahead the incoming shuttle came into view-I did
nothing about her; she had to keep clear of me, since I was undocking-and, into
my right viewport came one of the most impressive sights in the system: Luna
from close up, a mere three hundred kilometers-I could reach out and touch her.
I felt grand.
Those lying murdering scoundrels were left behind and we were forever out
of reach of Sethos's whimsical tyranny. At first, living in Golden Rule had
seemed happily loose and carefree. But I had learned. A monarch's neck should
always have a noose around it-it keeps him upright.
I was in the pilot's couch; Gwen had the copilot's position on my right. I
looked toward her and then realized that I was still wearing that silly
eyepatch
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