To Marte and Johnny Nine the space ship was
their world. And yet they dreamed of returning
home to Earth ... a planet they had never seen.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
October 1950
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Marte!"
His voice echoed hollowly, dying away to an eerie whisper, fainter and
fainter.
"Marte!"
It was very silent here on the last level below the giant atomic motors.
The feeble light showered down from a single overhead bulb; it was
their special bulb. Marte always lit it when she came below.
"Marte!" His voice was almost pleading.
"Here I am, Johnny. Over here."
"Little imp," he said, not unkindly. "What do you mean, hiding?"
"Hiding, Johnny? I wasn't hiding.... And besides, you looked so funny
and lost, standing there, calling me."
He saw her, now, sitting half in shadow, leaning against the far
bulkhead.
His feet ping-pinged on the uncarpeted deck plates as he crossed to her.
"Hello," she said brightly. She threw back her head, and her eyes
caught the dim light and sparkled it. "I hoped you'd come today."
Smiling, she held out her hand.
He took it. "I really shouldn't have," he said.
"Oh?" She puckered her lips in mock anger and drew him down beside
her. "Didn't you _want_ to come?"
"You know I did."
"Then why?"
"They might need me in Control," he said, half seriously.
Marte's eyes opened an involuntary fraction. "Nothing's wrong, is
there?" Her lips had lost their sudden, native smile, and the smile in
her eyes half fled.
"No. Everything's fine.... I just meant in case...."
"Oh, Johnny, don't say it; please." Her eyes spoke with her voice,
emotions bubbled in them. Her face had something of a woman's
seriousness in it, the product more of native understanding than
experience, and much of a girl's naivete. "Don't even _think_ about
anything like that." She looked up at him, studied his face intently,
and then said, "Tell me that: Say nothing's going to go wrong."
"I was just talking, Marte. Nothing can go wrong; not now."
"Say it again!"
"Nothing is going to go wrong," he said slowly, giving each word its
full meaning.
"Do you really--really and _truly_--believe that?" she asked.
"Of course I do, Marte."
The girl smiled. "I do too--only--" The smile faded. Her eyes focused
on some distant place, beyond the last level, beyond the Ship itself.
"Only sometimes I'm afraid it's too good to happen.... That I'm
dreaming, and that all at once I'll wake up, and--" She shook her head.
"But that's silly, isn't it, Johnny?"
"Yes," he said. He settled back and rested against the bulkhead.
* * * * *
There was silence for a while, two young people, hand in hand, sitting
in silence.
Finally, Marte spoke.
"Here," she said, "feel." She pressed his hand against the bulkhead.
"See how cool it is?"
"Of course. It's the outside plate."
"Yes," she said, "I know. There's nothing but space out there." She
squeezed his hand. "But just a little while ago, before you came, I was
sitting here thinking. And I thought that wind must feel like that. I
mean, not how it _feels_, exactly, but how it makes _you_ feel. Wild
and free. Without any bulkheads to keep you from walking and walking."
He shook his head. "Little dreamer," he whispered.