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. Dear man, what
can I do with this wig? It's the one Naomi uses for public performances; it's
valuable. It was sweet indeed of her to insist that I wear it-it was the final,
convincing touch, I think-but I don't see how to protect it. It's at least as
sensitive to acceleration as Tree-San."
"Durned if I know-and that's my official opinion. But I doubt that I will
need to push this go-buggy higher than two gee." I thought about it. "How about
the glove compartment? Take all of the Kleenex out of the dispenser and crumple
it up around the wig. And some inside it. Will that work?"
"I think so. Time enough?"
"Plenty of time. I made a quick estimate at Mr. Dockweiler's office. In
order to land at Hong Kong Luna port and in sunlight I should start moving into
a lower orbit about twenty-one hundred. Loads of time. So go ahead, do whatever
you need to do... while I tell the computer pilot what I want to do. Gwen, can
you read all the instruments from your side?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, that's your job, that and the starboard viewport. I'll stick to
power, attitude, and this baby computer. By the way, you're licensed, aren't
you?"
"No point in asking me now, is there? But let not your heart be troubled,
dear; I was herding sky junk before I was out of high school."
"Good." I did not ask to see her license-as she had pointed out, it was too
late to matter
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