_By Alan E. Nourse_
What drives a man to the stars on a life
of high adventure and grave peril? Even more
important--can a girl's love keep him home?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
October 1953
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
_We watched in silence as grim-faced, uniformed guards carried the
small bronze casket down from the space ship. There were thousands of
us standing there in the pouring rain, soaked to the skin. Yet somehow
we didn't notice the rain or the discomfort. We had waited years for
this moment, to honor a great man's triumphal return to Earth.... He
had waited too long. The odds he faced had finally cancelled out luck,
skill, and the guts a brave man needs to face space alone...._
_They carried his casket by us, across the sopping field, boots sucking
noisily in the heavy mud. Instead of smiles there were tears that even
the rain couldn't hide. And many a woman sobbed openly now ... perhaps
thinking of her own son or husband up there someplace...._
_I couldn't find any tears. And that was strange. For of all the
thousands of people watching his casket move slowly by, I should have
felt the deepest remorse._
_At least, when you kill a man you're supposed to feel that way...._
* * * * *
It had been so hot that I was soaked through when I finished at the
hospital, and could think of nothing more enticing than a hot bath and
a long night's sleep. An interne's life isn't his own, and the evenings
I could call mine came so seldom I couldn't remember the last time
I'd been free. Still, there were those evenings, and tonight seemed
to be one of them, when I used to think I'd been foolish to keep from
entanglements that would interfere with my professional progress,
and begin to envy guys like Bart, with their black haired, blue eyed
girls. I was pleased when I saw the light on under my door, and found
Bart and Marny there. Marny was at the refrigerator pouring some beer,
and Bart was pacing back and forth like a tiger, his eyes bright with
excitement. "You should get another hospital," he exploded when I
opened the door. "Thought you'd never get here."
"Can't tell women when to have babies," I growled. "Nobody's passed any
laws yet." I stripped off my shirt and disappeared toward the shower,
winking at Marny as I went. "And as for using my flat for immoral
purposes--"
"Fat chance," she grinned, jerking a thumb at Bart. "The boy's on
a jag. He won't come near me." I heard the glasses clinking as I
showered, and slipped on a cool, fresh shirt. I found them both with
their noses in beer, Marny on the couch, Bart staring out at the dark
street. And I noticed the suppressed excitement in Bart's eyes as I
sank down in a chair.
"Ok," I said. "So you've got news. Spill it."
"_I passed the test, Ben!_"
I squinted at him, puzzled. Something tried to clink down into place in
my mind. Test? It seemed to me I _had_ heard something about a test.
"That's nice," I said. "What test?"
"What test! Dillon's engineering competition, stupid! I told you about
that--"
My eyes widened, and I sat bolt upright. "You mean the competition for
_crews_?"
Bart nodded excitedly. "That's right. Dillon got the government to back
his contracts and research, and he'll be tripling the number of ships
in space within the next five years. He needs men--the best men he
can get to man those ships! And these tests are designed to pick the
best part for Dillon's crew--" He sank down on the davenport, his hands
trembling. "It was the only smart thing to do," he said. "Every mug on
the streets thinks that he wants to walk in and ferry a ship to Mars.
That wouldn't work--it takes too much knowledge, too much engineering
skill, and lots more. The men who go have got to be the best bets on
every score--the best to handle the long trips, the best for repairing,
reporting, exploring--everything. You saw what happened to the first
crews that went to Mars. There wasn't any provision for anything but
technical skill, and they were at each other's throats before they'd
cleared Earth's orbit. They practically killed each other--some went
loopy, some wouldn't come back home--Dillon had a real mess on his
hands. So the tests were set up for screening. The competition was
really stiff--"