"You're in the Space Corps," she said. "Maybe you don't know about
interstellar colonies. It costs plenty to send people to the stars. The
investors want some kind of guarantees for their money. So we're all
signed to a ten-year contract. If we fail to fulfill the terms we're
sent back to Earth on the next ship going that way."
"Well--I know you're still within the limit," said Bob, "but how does
this upset your marriage plans?"
"We go where we're sent," she said simply. "If this colony fails, we'll
be sent to a new planet. It may not be the same one. I'll be sent where
they need nurses, Jim where they need miners."
Bob felt funny, talking against the colonial program, but the weary
despair in the girl's eyes outweighed economic considerations. "You
could both renege on your contracts."
"And go back to Earth together?" Jana shook her head. "I couldn't do
that, for Jim's sake. He's spent his life at mining, and this is the
kind of mining he knows best: Praesodynimium. And there just _is_ no
more on Earth."
"He could get something else," said Bob.
"I know. But he might not be happy. After a while, he might blame me
for it. Or I'd blame myself. Either way, things just wouldn't be the
same. I--I suppose you think I'm foolish, feeling so strongly about
him?"
Bob said softly, "Honey, any guy would cut his arm off to get a girl
like you. Myself included."
Embarrassed, she looked once more toward the silent figure upon the
couch. "You're very kind."
"Not kind," said the tech. "Wistful."
Behind them, a myriad banks of lights and switches flickered, shifted
with electric monotony, slowly recording the details, down to the most
minute sensory awareness, of the Contact between Jerry Norcriss and the
alien....