"We've been riding a docking signal for the last seven minutes," James or Jack said. "Voice contact any second."

The radio chimed. "OTV three-seven," a calm tenor male voice said. "We have prime dock rotating. Advance at point one meters per second."

Rita flipped a switch and the OTV's floods came on, partially illuminating the inside of a gray cylinder that dwarfed the craft. Four rows of lights appeared ahead of them, wobbling back and forth slightly as the rotating dock adjusted its speed. "Here we go." The OTV advanced slowly.

Patricia nodded and held her hands tightly in her lap. The bump was hardly discernible as the OTV motors went ting all around and brought them to a stop inside the tunnel. A hatch opened ahead of the ship and three men in space suits floated into view, carrying cables. They used suit thrusters to fly around the OTV and tie it down.

"You're hooked, OTV three-seven," the radio voice said a few minutes later. "Welcome to the Stone."

"Thanks," James or Jack said. "We have a big load in the hopper and precious cargo up front. Treat them gently."

"Foreign or domestic?"

"Domestic. Best California vintage."

Patricia didn't know whether they were talking about a cargo of wine or her. She was too nervous to ask.

"Got you clear."

"Any more mysteries to leak to us, guide?" the blond asked.

"My people want the hopper cargo released in five minutes."

"Timing on."

"More mysteries. Let's see. Why is a raven like a writing desk?"

"Bastard. I'll think on it," James or Jack said. He switched off the mike and floated up from his couch to help Patricia with her belts. "Closemouthed, all of them," he said, guiding her to the lock access corridor. "I leave you to their tender mercies. And promise us, someday—pretty please?—" he patted her shoulder paternally "—when all this is settled and we're reminiscing in a bar in Sausalito. . .” He grinned at her, knowing how ridiculous the image was. "Tell us what the hell happened up here, step by step? We'll savor it the rest of our lives."

"Why do you think they'll tell me?" Patricia asked. "

"Why, don't you know?" Rita joined them in the lock. "You've been given top billing. You're going to save their collective hide."

Patricia climbed in to the transfer bubble and they closed the lock behind her. Watching through the lock port, she could see the curious hunger in their faces. The lock hatch swung open and two men in spacesuits reached in to pull the bubble from the OTV. She was passed along hand-to-hand through a circular opening in the dock's dark gray surface.

Chapter Two

Twenty-five kilometers below the axis, the Stone's spin produced a force of six-tenths of a g. Garry Lanier took daily advantage of that to perform gymnastic feats difficult or impossible for him on Earth. He swung back and forth, blowing out his breath forcefully and grunting, holding his legs straight together and propelling himself high over the parallel bars and the pit of fine white sand. It was easy to twist and reverse his position. Almost as easy was swinging his legs into the air, spinning and doing a reverse that way.