For answer, she preened her back as much as her harness would permit
and purred softly within the confines of the frame that held her.
He slapped down the lid and watched the sealant ooze around the seam.
For a few hours, she was welded into her projectile until a workman
with a short cutting arc would remove her after she had done her duty.
* * * * *
He picked up the entire projectile and slipped it into the ejection
tube. He closed the door of the tube, spun the lock, seated himself in
his chair, and put his own pin-set on.
Once again he flung the switch.
He sat in a small room, _small_, _small_, _warm_, _warm_, the bodies
of the other three people moving close around him, the tangible lights
in the ceiling bright and heavy against his closed eyelids.
As the pin-set warmed, the room fell away. The other people ceased to
be people and became small glowing heaps of fire, embers, dark red
fire, with the consciousness of life burning like old red coals in a
country fireplace.
As the pin-set warmed a little more, he felt Earth just below him,
felt the ship slipping away, felt the turning Moon as it swung on the
far side of the world, felt the planets and the hot, clear goodness of
the Sun which kept the Dragons so far from mankind's native ground.
Finally, he reached complete awareness.
He was telepathically alive to a range of millions of miles. He felt
the dust which he had noticed earlier high above the ecliptic. With a
thrill of warmth and tenderness, he felt the consciousness of the Lady
May pouring over into his own. Her consciousness was as gentle and
clear and yet sharp to the taste of his mind as if it were scented
oil. It felt relaxing and reassuring. He could sense her welcome of
him. It was scarcely a thought, just a raw emotion of greeting.
At last they were one again.
In a tiny remote corner of his mind, as tiny as the smallest toy he
had ever seen in his childhood, he was still aware of the room and the
ship, and of Father Moontree picking up a telephone and speaking to a
Scanner captain in charge of the ship.
His telepathic mind caught the idea long before his ears could frame
the words. The actual sound followed the idea the way that thunder on
an ocean beach follows the lightning inward from far out over the
seas.
"The Fighting Room is ready. Clear to planoform, sir."