The low spit guarding the harbor entrance was only a slightly deeper
blue than the water and perpetual overcast of Venus. Captain Ratterman
sighed, reported "No charts," and spoke into the communicator, "Cut
speed to eight knots, use full automatics on the bottom sonics,"
then he turned to the pair beside him on the bridge. "I'm not being
inhospitable. In fact, you're welcome to stay as long as you please.
But it's fair to warn you that we won't be docking for another three
hours."
"We love your company," said Ann Starnes, but Heidekopfer picked at her
arm, and led her toward the gangway. When they had reached the low,
flat bow with the water whispering softly beneath, he said, "How about
it, Ann? Why not marry me now and save trouble? You're going to anyway,
some day, and it might be a protection here."
She put a hand over one of his. "No, Bob. Not now. I'll give you
first place on the list, but I'm not going to marry you--or anybody
else--until I'm something more than a failure."
"You're no failure. The fact that you were selected for this job proves
it."
"Just a competent mechanical photographer, Bob--you needn't tell me.
I was picked because I had worked with you before, and your work is
important."
"Look ..." he started to say, then let it trail off. They had argued
the point so often it was like another trip on a merry-go-round. Ann
said, "I don't want to be just a wife, like Rosa Lanzerotti."