"Hello, Tony, you old space dog! You're looking fine. What happened? Did
they pull you off leave, too?"
He held the acid face until the panel closed, then he brightened a
little. At least, he didn't refuse my proffered hand.
He stood fists on hips, glaring at me.
Finally, he growled: "I had hopes you'd wash out. When I heard you'd
made it, I was plenty disappointed." He shook his head. "You seem
healthy enough, but I still think it's a waste of a good spacer." And
that, apparently, was as close as he was going to come to saying that he
was glad to see me again, because, in the next breath, he reverted to
Starship Master.
"Now, let's have the nexus. All I know is that I got orders to round up
a short crew, was handed a space plan with co-ordinates that were
originally filed for GSS 231 a few months back, with an ultimate
destination of a planet I orbited five years ago."
"You've been there?"
"I just said so, didn't I? Don't they teach you vacuum cops to listen?"