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Seven minutes later, the staff car was rolling unquestioned through the main gate of Waikiki Spaceport. It was all so incredibly easy, MacMaine thought. Nobody questioned an official car. Nobody checked anything too closely. Nobody wanted to risk his lifelong security by doing or saying something that might be considered antisocial by a busy general.
They have him at the spaceport hospital; it'll be 2400 before they get all the poison sweated out of him." I went on to tell him what had happened. Dad's eyes widened slightly, and he took the pipe out of his mouth and looked at Bish with something very reasonably like respect. "That was mighty sharp work," he said. "If you'd been a second slower, we'd be all out of visiting authors.
The voice from the spaceport: "Sir?" Captain Bors said impatiently, "Oh, let him down and see if he knows anything about the Mekinese. Then advise him to go away at once. Tell him why." "Yes, sir." A click. Young Captain Bors returned to his task of burning papers. These were the confidential records of the Ministry for Diplomatic Affairs.
The three Solar Guard officers looked at each other in surprise as the Titan operator acknowledged the call. "This is Titan. Go ahead, Ganymede." "We have just received word that the rocket ship Space Knight is within five minutes of a touchdown this spaceport. Will probably blast off again immediately after refueling. Acknowledge, Titan!" "I read you, Ganymede!" replied the Titan operator.
At the spaceport he handed in his flight ticket for approval, placed a copy of his intended orbit on file with Central Routing Registration, and got his field clearance. The ground crew had already been notified that Alan's ship was blasting off that day, and they were busy now putting her in final departure condition.
"It's not preposterous," said his grandfather. "Sounds like fun, to me! You're tired now, Bron. Lots of responsibilities and such. Take a rest. You and your Cousin Oliver get together and fix those new gadgets on my ship. I'll take the other boys for a run over to this spaceport town. The boys need a run ashore, and there might be some loot. Your grandmother's fond of homespun.
So Bors and Gwenlyn and Morgan got a ground-car and were driven to Kandar's commercial spaceport. There they found the Sylva. It was far larger than the usual space-yachts. There were commercial space-craft which were no larger. But it was a workmanlike sort of ship, at that. It had two lifeboat blisters, and there were emergency rockets for landings where no landing-grids existed.
They howled with childish laughter, and assured the box that after they had opened it and given it cough medicine they would close it again very carefully leaving the diplomatic seal unbroken and deliver it to the spaceport so it could go on its way. The box swore again, luridly. The truck which carried it hastened.
They had the same body chemistry in fact, you couldn't tell Lhari blood from human, even under a microscope. And in the terrible Orion Spaceport wreck sixty years ago, doctors had found that blood plasma from humans could be used for wounded Lhari, and vice versa, though it wasn't safe to transfuse whole blood. But then, even among humans there were five blood types.
The enlisted spaceman at the controls sent the tiny vessel skimming across the broad expanse of the spaceport toward the control tower. Walters and Howard watched him leave. "I hope nothing has happened to that boy," said Walters. "Corbett is one of the finest cadets we have." "I'm afraid it doesn't look too good, sir," Howard answered.
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