SPACEMEN LOST
A Novel by
GEORGE O. SMITH
Illustrated by VIRGIL FINLAY
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Startling Stories Fall 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I
Over the hubbub and chatter came the brief warning wail of a smallsiren. The noise died as the people in the vast waiting room stoppedtalking.
"Your attention, please!" boomed the loud-speaker. "Passengers forSpaceflight Seventy-nine, departing for Castor Three and Pollux Four,will proceed to Gate Seven for ground transportation to the take-offblock. Spaceflight Seventy-nine, waiting for passengers at GatewaySeven!"
There was a moment of silence, then a loud racket burst out aseverybody started talking at once. There was only a small flowof people toward Gate Seven, almost negligible, because FlightSeventy-nine was essentially a cargo hop. In fact, this morning lessthan a half-dozen headed for the gateway.
Among these was a tall man, impressive in his blue-black uniform. Aspace commodore, no less. He carried the light bag of the woman whowas beside him, proud and happy and eager-looking. But traces of someinternal storm clouded the man's features, and as they approachedGateway Seven, the man's perturbation worked closer and closer to thesurface until finally it broke through.
"You could still back out," he said.
"No, I couldn't," she said. Her own face clouded a bit.
"Yes, you could," he snapped.
She stopped ten or fifteen feet from Gateway Seven and turned to facehim. She was pert and pretty in a traveling suit of gray; brand-new forthis occasion. Her name was Alice Hemingway, but she would have swappedit in a minute to become Mrs. Theodore Wilson, even on a commodore'ssalary.
"Look, Ted," she said slowly. "We've been back and forth over thisargument for a couple of months now. Can't you forget it?"
"No, I can't," replied Ted Wilson. "I don't like the idea of you takingto space."
"I do," she said simply. "I want to see these places you are alwaystelling me about. I want to see 'em before I'm sixty. It's no funlistening to your stories, then having you trot off for three or fourmonths on another jaunt while I sit home alone and wonder where you areand what's doing."
"But we—" He paused, thinking. "Alice," he said suddenly, "will youmarry me?"
A welling of tears came then, but Alice blinked them back. "Ifyou'd asked me that a month ago I would have said 'Yes,' with nostipulations, but right now I'll say 'Yes, as soon as I come back, ifyou still want me.' Understand?"
"Not quite."
"I want you to be dead certain that the reason you want to marry me isnot to keep me from taking this spaceflight."
Ted looked down at her. "I'd really like to know if you accepted thistrip just to force me into asking you," he said slowly.
"You'll never know," she said with a bright smile.
He swore under his breath. "I still don't like the idea of you trottingoff to Castor Three with that old goat."
"Mr. Andrews? Old goat? Why Ted! You're jealous."
"I am."
"Good. Stay jealous. But don't be an imbecile. Mr. Andrews is merely myboss, not my lover. He has never so much as watched me walk, let alonemade a pass at me. I couldn't think of