Asbriong 3

The box was just that: a three story block with porthole windows, taller than wide. It was not in the least aerodynamic. Structurally, though, it was sound. Sometimes that made a difference when landing, but the miners still didn't wear helmets. If you crashed before the back chute deployed, you were dead anyway.

Hable and the others stood before it, listening to the nearby angry voices increase in volume.

"What d'ya reckon that's about?" Pol Anders muttered sideways.

"Damned if I know. We'll find out soon, or miss this propel."

"For that clod?" Pol tossed his head upward at the floating shadow. "It's a behemoth. Rolling slow like one, too."

"Still, anyone got eyes on this thing yet?"

"Plenty of time for that during the drop."

Launcher approached with the two well-dressed men in tow just as the crew was getting restless. He was red in the face and immediately called out. "These men will join you! SHUT YOUR HOLES!" This outburst in response to the outcry. "I don't like it either now load up!

"Hable! C'mere!"