[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Amazing Stories January 1962.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The landing port at Titan had not changed much in five years.
The ship settled down on the scarred blast shield, beside the same trio
of squat square buildings, and quickly disgorged its scanty quota
of cargo and a lone passenger into the flexible tube that linked the
loading hatch with the main building.
As soon as the tube was disconnected, the ship screamed off through
the murky atmosphere, seemingly glad to get away from Titan and head
back to the more comfortable and settled parts of the Solar System.
The passenger, Dr. Sidney Lee, stood by the window-wall of the main
building and watched the ship disappear into the dark sky. He was tall
and lean, seemingly all bone and tendon, with graying dark hair and
faintly haunted eyes set deep into a rough-hewn, weather-worn face.
When the ship was nothing more than another star overhead, he turned
and looked at the place.
_Five years hasn't made any difference_, he thought. The single room
of the main port building was unchanged: a little grimier, perhaps,
and a little more worn. But essentially unchanged. There were the same
turnstiles and inspection machines, the same processing and handling
gadgets for your papers and baggage, the same (it couldn't be, but they
_looked_ the same) two bored techs sitting at the far end of the room,
unwilling to lift an eyebrow unless specifically commanded to do so.
Lee walked over to the papers processor and pushed his credentials into
its slot. After a few wheezes and clanks its green light flickered
on and the papers fell into the "return" bin properly stamped and
approved. At the same time, his lone bag slid along a conveyor belt
and onto the pickup table.
With his credentials back inside his jacket and the bag in hand, Lee
looked toward the two clerks. They were studiously avoiding his eyes,
searching intently through some schedules that they kept on hand for
just such emergencies.
"Sid! Hi!"
He turned at the sound of her voice.
"I'm sorry to be late," she said, hurrying across the big empty room,
"but we never know when the Ancient Mariner is going to arrive. It's
not a matter of whether it'll be on schedule or not ... just a question
of guessing how late it's going to be."