"Glad, get the package in your hands like a basketball--"
"Yes, conceal your shame!" Helene cut in acidly.
"Will you stop it?" I cried. "Now, Glad, listen, aim it toward my
orbit. Lead me a little--there, that ought to do it. Now when I count
down to zero give it a shove. Ready? Three, two, one--_zero_!"
It was dead on!
I looked in the bag, hoping to find a newly charged carbonation unit
for the servomech bar. I didn't, but I found something else!
"Helene," I said, "I love you!"--and I drew forth the loveliest magnum
of champagne you'd ever hope to see.
"But, Bill," Helene cried, "that's to celebrate our wedding night!"
I appreciated the present tense but said nothing, working on the wire
which bound the cork.
"Bill, remember what happened to the Scotch," Gladys warned me.
I ignored them both, thinking furiously. It _had_ to be Helene! She
would sweep to the apogee of her cometlike orbit near the cellar door
again in seconds. I shook the magnum as violently as I could. Its cork
went whooshing off on a ricochet romance with the Scotch cap. The freed
and deeply disturbed champagne blasted off straight for the most remote
point in Helene's orbit--and Helene was there! On target!
I went whirling backward with the reacting magnum against my chest,
bounced against a wall, smacked against the chandelier, flipflopped
a few times and found myself orbiting directly below Gladys. I
re-oriented myself with some effort and found by twisting my head
sharply that I could see the results of the improvised jet blast:
Helene, drenched with champagne, stood in gravity on the cellar stairs.
"Dear," I ventured, "just go down and ease off on the rheostat; that'll
cancel this out gradually and let us down easily."
She made a spluttering noise and went downstairs.
I made a quick survey for a possible safe touchdown area just in case
Helene inadvertently cut the power too fast; chances were good that
we'd hit one of the several sofas.
Gladys and I were celestially north of the chitchat bench when Helene
completely killed the null-grav. The bench, with visio, suffered
complete collapse; it wasn't meant for sitting down on from twelve feet
up. Especially with a blonde dropping immediately into one's lap. Lucky
for me both were nicely padded.
"I'm sorry, Bill," Gladys said, _September Morn_-ing, and hurrying,
dishevelled and forlorn, out the front door. I heard her car start up
as Helene came up from the basement.