Prelude to Foundation - Isaac Asimov [67]
The jet then sprang (it was the only verb Seldon could find to describe the event) into the sir and he found himself pushed hard against the back and bottom of his seat.
Through the windshield in front of the pilot, Seldon saw, with a twinge of horror, the flat rise of a wall-and then a round opening appear in that wall. It was similar to the hole into which the sir-taxi had plunged the day he and Hummin had left the Imperial Sector, but though this one was large enough for the body of the jet, it certainly did not leave room for the wings.
Seldon's head turned as far to the right as he could manage and did so just in time to see the wing on his side wither and collapse.
The jet plunged into the opening and was seized by the electromagnetic field and hurtled along a lighted runnel. The acceleration was constant and there were occasional clicking noises that Seldon imagined might be the passing of individual magnets.
And then, in less than ten minutes, the jet was spewed out into the atmosphere, headlong into the sudden pervasive darkness of night.
The jet decelerated as it passed beyond the electromagnetic field and Seldon felt himself flung against the mesh and plastered there for a few breathless moments.
Then the pressure ceased and the mesh disappeared altogether.
"How are you, youngsters?" came the cheerful voice of the pilot.
"I'm not sure," said Seldon. He turned to Dors. "Are you all right?"
"Certainly," she answered. "I think Mr. Levanian was putting us through his paces to see if we were really Outworlders. Is that so, Mr. Levanian?"
"Some people like excitement," said Levanian. "Do you?"
"Within limits," said Dors.
Then Seldon added approvingly, "As any reasonable person would admit."
Seldon went on. "It might have seemed less humorous to you, sir, if you had ripped the wings off the jet."
"Impossible, sir. I told you this is not your ordinary air-jet. The wings are thoroughly computerized. They change their length, width, curvature, and overall shape to match the speed of the jet, the speed and direction of the wind, the temperature, and half a dozen other variables. The wings wouldn't tear off unless the jet itself was subjected to stresses that would splinter it."
There was a spatter against Seldon's window. He said, "It's raining.'
"It often is," said the pilot.
Seldon peered out the window. On Helicon or on any other world, there would have been lights visible-the illuminated works of man. Only on Trantor would it be dark.
-Well, not entirely. At one point he saw the flash of a beacon light. Perhaps the higher reaches of Upperside had warning lights.
As usual, Dors took note of Seldon's uneasiness. Parting his hand, she said, "I'm sure the pilot knows what he's doing, Hari."
"I'll try to be sure of it, too, Dors, but I wish he'd share some of that knowledge with us," Seldon said in a voice loud enough to be overheard.
"I don't mind sharing," said the pilot. "To begin with, we're heading up and we'll be above the cloud deck in a few minutes. Then there won't be any rain and we'll even see the stars."
He had timed the remark beautifully, for a few stars began to glitter through the feathery cloud remnants and then all the rest sprang into brightness as the pilot flicked off the lights inside the cabin. Only the dim illumination of his own instrument panel remained to compete and outside the window the sky sparkled brightly.
Dors said, "That's the first time in over two years that I've seen the stars. Aren't they marvelous? They're so bright--and there are so many of them."
The pilot said, "Trantor is nearer the center of the Galaxy than most of the Outworlds."
Since Helicon was in a sparse comer of the Galaxy and its star field was dim and unimpressive, Seldon found himself speechless.
Dors said, "How quiet this flight has become."
..So it is," said Seldon. "What powers the jet, Mr. Levanian?"
"A microfusion motor and a thin stream of hot gas."
"I didn't know we had working microfusion air-jets. They talk about it, but-"
",there are