[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
December 1955
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Some of the anguish and bitterness and fear left Walter Stanton's heart
as he gazed at the vista from the open landing-lock. It had been almost
three months since the core of Space Station One had nudged itself into
its silent orbit, but this, the only remaining view unhindered by the
bulbous fuel storage tanks, still fascinated him. Now, as the nose of
Cargo One crept backward into the blinding sunlight, he pulled himself
further along the catwalk. He waved with his free hand at the pilot,
Major Torrance, although he knew the Major could hardly be watching
during the delicate maneuver. Then, while the massive hatch was still
gaping, he looked earthward.
Twenty-five thousand miles away, half of the western hemisphere shone
through the murky earth-haze, the other half still in darkness.
Through force of habit he oriented himself by looking at the center
of the half-darkened sphere; there lay the Galapagos Islands. Then he
traced the outline of the West Coast to Baja California and thence to
where he knew lay Sandia Base, New Mexico. He glanced at his watch;
7:00 A.M. Mountain Standard Time; Lynne would be making breakfast
for Karen, soon to leave for school. He felt a stab of loneliness and
a tug of envy for the men in Cargo II. Three skidding entries into
the atmosphere; three swinging returns to space, and they would have
decelerated enough to spiral to the incredible runway at Sandia. In
twelve hours they would be home with their wives.
He watched as Torrance, drifting a hundred yards away, eased the
massive nose to a westerly direction and then, with a tiny burst of
power, slowed his relative speed enough to fall rapidly out of Space
One's orbit. He sighed and swung himself around.
Colonel Mel Cramer was hanging on beside him, grotesquely familiar in
the flight gear he used as a Topside Suit. Walter Stanton's earphones
crackled.
"Walt, I'm going to take the _Mistress_ out for a while and practice
some marriages, if it's OK with you."
Walter Stanton glanced at the lethal fighter ship nested across the
landing-lock and essayed their old joke again, but his heart wasn't in
it. "What would Marge say, Mel?"
Mel Cramer laughed. "She gave up to _Mel's Mistress_ a year ago. OK to
go?"
Walter Stanton thought of the letter in his pocket. "No, Mel, I think
not." Then suddenly: "Is the _Mistress_ armed ... all ready to go?"