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The ground rushed up from below. Silver was almost sorry they had not, after all, waited for the cover of night to make this landing. At least she wouldn't have been able to see her death coming. She could, of course, close her eyes. She closed her eyes, but opened them again almost immediately. Why miss the last experience of one's life? She was sorry Leo had never made a pass at her. He must suffer from stress accumulation too, surely. Faster and faster . . .

The shuttle bumped, bounced, banged, rocked, and roared out over the flat cracked surface. She was sorry she had never made a pass at Leo. Clearly, you could die while waiting for other people to start your life for you. Her seat harness cut across her breasts as deceleration sucked her forward and the rumbling vibration rattled her teeth.

"Not quite as smooth as a runway," Ti shouted, grinning and sparing her a bright glance at last. "But good enough for company work . . ."

All right, so nobody else was gibbering in terror, maybe this was the way a landing was supposed to be. They rolled to a quite demure stop in the middle of nowhere. Toothed carmine mountains ringed an empty horizon. Silence fell.

"Well," said Ti, "here we are. . . ." He released his harness with a snap and turned to Dr. Minchenko, struggling up out of the engineer's seat. "Now what? Where is she?"

"If you would be good enough," said Dr. Minchenko, "to provide us with an exterior scan . . ."

A view of the horizon scrolled slowly several times through a monitor, as the minutes ticked by in Silver's brain. The gravity, Silver discovered, was not nearly so awful as Claire had described it. It was much like the time spent under acceleration on the way to the wormhole, only very still and without vibration, or like at the transfer station only stronger. It would have helped if the design of the seat had matched the design of her body.

"What if Rodeo Traffic Control saw us land?" she said. "What if GalacTech gets here first?"

"It's more frightening to think traffic control might have missed us," said Ti. "As for who gets here first—well, Dr. Minchenko?"

"Mm," he said glumly. Then he brightened, leaned forward and froze the scan, and put his finger on a small smudge in the screen, perhaps 15 kilometers distant.

"Dust devil?" said Ti, plainly trying to control his hopes.

The smudge focused. "Land rover," said Dr. Minchenko, smiling in satisfaction. "Oh, good girl."

The smudge grew into a boiling vortex of orange dust spun up behind a speeding land rover. Five minutes later the vehicle braked to a halt beside the shuttle's forward hatchway. The figure under the dusty bubble canopy paused to adjust a breath mask, then the bubble swung up and the side ramp swung down.

Dr. Minchenko adjusted his own breath mask firmly over his nose and, followed by Ti, rushed down the shuttle stairs to assist the frail, silver-haired woman who was struggling with an assortment of odd-shaped packages. She gave them all up to the men with evident gladness but for a thick black case shaped rather like a spoon which she clutched to her bosom in much the same way, Silver thought, as Claire clutched Andy. Dr. Minchenko shepherded his lady anxiously upward toward the airlock—her knees moved stiffly, on the stairs—and through, where they could at last pull down their masks and speak clearly.

"Are you all right, Warren?" Madame Minchenko asked.

"Perfectly," he assured her.

"I could bring almost nothing—I scarcely knew what to choose."

"Think of the vast amounts of money we shall save on shipping charges, then."

Silver was fascinated by the way gravity gave form to Madame Minchenko's dress. It was a warm, dark fabric with a silver belt at the waist, and hung in soft folds about her booted ankles. The skirt swirled as Madame Minchenko stepped, echoing her agitation.

"It's utter madness. We're too old to become refugees. I had to leave my harpsichord!"

Dr. Minchenko patted her sympathetically on the shoulder. "It wouldn't work