Billy Jones sat in the office of the repair shop, cigarette dangling
from his lip, pouring smoke into his watery eye.
"Never saw anything like it in my life," he declared. "How he made that
ship go at all with half the plates ripped off is way beyond me."
The dungareed mechanic sighted along the toes of his shoes, planted
comfortably on the desk.
"Let me tell you, mister," he declared, "the solar system never has
known a pilot like him ... never will again. He brought his ship down
here with the instruments knocked out. Dead reckoning."
"Wrote a great piece about him," Billy said. "How he died in the best
tradition of space. Stuff like that. The readers will eat it up. The
way that ship let go he didn't have a chance. Seemed to go out of
control all at once and went weaving and bucking almost into Saturn.
Then blooey ... that's the end of it. One big splash of flame."
The mechanic squinted carefully at his toes. "They're still out there,
messing around," he said, "But they'll never find him. When that ship
blew up he was scattered halfway out to Pluto."
The inner lock swung open ponderously and a spacesuited figure stepped
in.
They waited while he snapped back his helmet.
"Good evening, gentlemen," said Oliver Meek.
They stared, slack-jawed.
Jones was the first to recover. "But it can't be you! Your ship ... it
exploded!"
"I know," said Meek. "I got out just before it went. Turned on my suit
rocket full blast. Knocked me out. By the time I come to I was halfway
out to the second Ring. Took me awhile to get back."
He turned to the mechanic. "Maybe you have a second hand suit you would
sell me. I have to get rid of this one. Has some bugs in it."
"Bugs? Oh, yes, I see. You mean something's wrong with it."
"That's it," said Meek. "Something's wrong with it."
"I got one I'll let you have, free for nothing," said the mechanic.
"Boy, that was a swell game you played!"
"Could I have the suit now?" asked Meek. "I'm in a hurry to get away."
Jones bounced to his feet. "But you can't leave. Why, they think you're
dead. They're out looking for you. And you won the cup ... the cup as
the most valuable team member."
"I just can't stay," said Meek. He shuffled his feet uneasily. "Got
places to go. Things to see. Stayed too long already."
"But the cup...."
"Tell Gus I won the cup for him. Tell him to put it on that
mantelpiece. In the place he dusted off for it."
Meek's blue eyes shone queerly behind his glasses. "Tell him maybe
he'll think of me sometimes when he looks at it."
The mechanic brought the suit. Meek bundled it under his arm, started
for the lock.
Then turned back.
"Maybe you gentlemen...."
"Yes," said Jones.
"Maybe you can tell me how many goals I made. I lost count, you see."
"You made nine," said Jones.
Meek shook his head. "Must be getting old," he said. "When I was a kid
I was a _ten goal_ man."
Then he was gone, the lock swinging shut behind him.