That meant sometime today!
She rose with the sun and fed the chickens, fixed and ate her breakfast,
collected the eggs and put them in their cardboard boxes, then started
out on her Wednesday morning run. "My land, Martha, I don't see how you
stand it with him way up there! Doesn't it get on your _nerves_?" ("Yes
... Yes, it does.") "Martha, when are they bringing him back down?"
("Today ... _Today_!") "It must be wonderful being a star mother,
Martha." ("Yes, it is--in a way.")
Wonderful ... and terrible.
If only he can last it out for a few more hours, she thought. If only
they can bring him down safe and sound. Then the vigil will be over, and
some other mother can take over the awesome responsibility of having a
son become a star--
If only ...
* * * * *
The general's third telegram arrived that afternoon: _Regret to inform
you that meteorite impact on satellite hull severely damaged
capsule-detachment mechanism, making ejection impossible. Will make
every effort to find another means of accomplishing your son's return._