Half an hour later the pilot announced: "We make contact in ten minutes.  Please check your seat harness."

Floyd obeyed, and put away his papers.  It was asking for trouble to read during the celestial juggling act which took place during the last 300 miles; best to close one's eyes and relax while the spacecraft was nudged back and forth with brief bursts of rocket power.

A few minutes later he caught his first glimpse of Space Station One, only a few miles away.  The sunlight glinted and sparkled from the polished metal surfaces of the slowly revolving, three-hundred-yard-diameter disk.  Not far away, drifting in the same orbit, was a swept-back Titov-V spaceplane, and close to that an almost spherical Aries-1B, the workhorse of space, with the four stubby legs of its lunar-landing shock absorbers jutting from one side.

The Orion III spacecraft was descending from a higher orbit, which brought the Earth into spectacular view behind the Station.  From his altitude of 200 miles, Floyd could see much of Africa and the Atlantic Ocean.  There was considerable cloud cover, but he could still detect the blue-green outlines of the Gold Coast.

The central axis of the Space Station, with its docking arms extended, was now slowly swimming toward them.  Unlike the structure from which it sprang, it was not rotating or, rather, it was running in reverse at a rate which exactly countered the Station's own spin.  Thus a visiting spacecraft could be coupled to it, for the transfer of personnel or cargo, without being whirled disastrously around.

With the softest of thuds, ship and Station made contact.  There were metallic, scratching noises from outside, then the brief hissing of air as pressures equalized.  A few seconds later the airlock door opened, and a man wearing the light, close-fitting slacks and short-sleeved shirt which was almost the uniform of Space Station personnel came into the cabin.

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Floyd.  I'm Nick Miller Station Security; I'm to look after you until the shuttle leaves."

They shook hands, then Floyd smiled at the stewardess and said: "Please give my compliments to Captain Tynes, and thank him for the smooth ride.  Perhaps I'll see you on the way home."

Very cautiously - it was more than a year since he had last been weightless and it would be some time before he regained his spacelegs - he hauled himself hand over hand through the airlock and into the large, circular chamber at the axis of the Space Station.  It was a heavily padded room, its walls covered with recessed handholds; Floyd gripped one of these firmly while the whole chamber started to rotate, until it matched the spin of the Station.

As it gained speed, faint and ghostly gravitational fingers began to clutch at him, and he drifted slowly toward the circular wall.  Now he was standing, swaying back and forth gently like seaweed in the surge of the tide, on what had magically become a curving floor.  The centrifugal force of the Station's spin had taken hold of him; it was very feeble here, so near the axis, but would increase steadily as he moved outward.

From the central transit chamber he followed Miller down a curving stair.  At first his weight was so slight that he had almost to force himself downward by holding on to the handrail.  Not until he reached the passenger lounge, on the outer skin of the great revolving disk, had he acquired enough weight to move around almost normally.