"It wouldn't matter if you were a princess. It's not what he'd think
of you; it's what he'd wonder about himself, piloting a sand-buggy
instead of a rocket."
In the alley, one of the spacers shuffled his feet impatiently. I
hurried on, hoping to clinch it before she turned stubborn.
"_You_, at least, ought to understand men better than most, Lilac.
Maybe it doesn't make sense, but it would be smarter to grab him after
he's had his share of space instead of before."
It was hard to breathe without sounding loud in the stillness. Just as
I had to swallow or choke, Lilac's shoulders slumped an inch or two.
"I'll wake him up," she said in a tired voice.
Feeling as if I had struck her, I stepped back into the alley. A few
minutes later, Konnel slipped out and shut the door behind him. No one
said a word. From the set of his shoulders, it seemed that he might be
just as glad the alley was dim; but he simply trailed along behind.
* * * * *
We walked back to Number Four Airlock in a silence that had me
counting the footsteps. When we reached the tractor parking lot, I
cleared my throat.
"Wait a minute. I'll warm up my sand-saucer and give you a lift to
your ship."
"Maybe we won't need to impose on you any more, Tony," said Howlet.
"Looks like those machines over there are going out."
I followed his gesture and, by luck, caught the eye of a driver I
knew. I waved and jerked my thumb at the spacers beside me.
"Let's go!" said Howlet as the tractor slowed. "Thanks for everything,
Tony. Get yourself some sleep; the night watches in these domes are
rough."
Konnel waited until they were a few steps away. Even then, he
hesitated.
"Forget it!" I said. "You aren't the first spacer they had to pump out
of some odd corner. Look me up when you get back!"
He shook hands and trotted after his friends. They scrambled up the
ladder to the cab. The tractor picked up speed, lumbering into the
airlock.
Later, a little after noon, I crawled out of bed and watched the flare
of their pipes as the ship streaked up into the dark Martian sky. I
hoped they would make it--almost as much as I wished it could have
been me.
Well, I still come out to the wall of whatever dome I find myself in,
to watch the sky a while--not that I'll see _those_ boys coming down
at this late date! They must have splattered to a puddle on Jupiter,
or slipped back into the sun, or taken up a cold, dark orbit out where
they'll never bother anyone. Nobody will ever know for sure, I
suppose.
If I had it to do over again?
No, of course I don't feel funny about it. If they weren't the ones,
it would have been another crew. By the law of averages, a certain
number of bad tries seems to go with every new push out into space.
Maybe there's no reason it has to be like that, but it always has.
When the bad luck is used up, someone makes a new frontier.
Why say "superstition"? Each new orbit out from the sun has cost
plenty in money, ships, and lives; it's the admission price.
Sure, it was too bad about Konnel and his little girl--who, by the
way, later married a very important man in Asaph Dome. It would have
been nice to see Meadows wind up rich, or for Howlet to become mayor
of the dome, but what could I do? Which one should I have talked into
staying for the sake of love or money or power, without even being
able to go in his place?
Every time Man pushes ahead a little, a percentage of the pushers pay
the fare. Still, it will be healthier if we push out of this planetary
system before someone else pushes in.
For all we know, they may be on the way.