Astounding Science Fiction, February 1952 (British Edition) — page 65: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE PRICE 63 turned to a drawer for the wallet. Over a broad shoulder he said, “She made you a cake and a mufiler, Dad. This package, here. You can take it with you—” “Take it? You mean you're leaving right away?” “Ti’s not that I want to—but I was delayed by a big sunspot storm that sent a tot of radiation around. They made me wait, and the Moon is moving the wrong way, now—” So every minute they spent talking, deflected the ship’s launching point. Stall long enough, and the boy couldn’t go at ali— “Where are you headed?” “Adonis. Want to check my charts?” “No. The CAA has experts. [’m no Ph.D., Twoie. Pm janitor here—” “Well . .. naturally your Martians do “Yeah. But this is a government job. You do the work of a head janitor, and some stupid Wage and Salary Analyst insists you get the pay of a head janitor.” “I... 1 know how much I owe you, as owe me nothing!” Strain made Ray’s tone explosive. “That isn’t what I meant. I want you to have the best. The best of everything. But being a space-pilot isn’t the best of anything. You’ve got to go back. I don’t want you to go on. I won't give my consent to your going on!” There! It was out. Not the fatherly, affectionate tone he’d hoped to achieve, but at least the cards were on the table. Twoie trumped—and almost took the trick: “Don’t you think I’m good enough, Dad?” | Ray reached with both hands for his son’s shoulders—but felt him through only one glove. “Of course you’re good enough! Too good! You've got a-career ahead in some terrestrial observatory. You’ve got a wife—can raise a family. If you don’t get yourself sterilized by radiation, up here—” Twoie looked away, and Ray dropped his hand resignedly. He glanced around the cockpit. Some of the gadgets were strange to him. In this crowded place, where he couldn’t even take off his suit unless Twoie first lay down in the bunk—in this cage, this coffin—were gadgets he didn’t even recognize. Only five years since he’d piloted —and already his blood-won knowledge was getting obsolete! . “Yeah?” “T . .. I] don’t know what to say. The last thing in the world that I want is to make you sore at me—But, look} Taking this flight even this far without your con- sent is illegal. I talked them into it because you were here. I mean, it isn’t only that I _ have to turn back. if you don’t consent— but all the people who let me take up the ship will lose their jobs. Mostly they’re old friends of yours. They thought you'd be proud—” “I am proud, boy—believe me! But—” “But why refuse a signature, then? It’s just a formality.” “A death sentence is always just a for- mality—until it’s carried out!” “Death sentence?” But you’re alive! Alive and admired and written up in all the textbooks!” ‘“Yeah—but my son still argues with me. You may never have a son, if you go on flying. ['m sterile, now, they say.” “But, they know more about shielding, nowadays. New alloys-—” It was a relief when the annunciator flashed. Twoie plugged in a headset. “Tower call- ing,’ he reported, holding the receiver to his ear. “Microgram for Ray Fincek.” “Put my helmet on me,” “Time enough for you to say I’m coming when I’m in the air lock.” He left his radio off so he could think, and it was only when he was going back to the tower that Ray realized they could have read him the message, and saved the time it took to pass the lock. Time—while the Moon jogged its course, moving his son’s starting-point, requiring the use of addi- tional fuel—if Twoie went on, that is. Well, of course that was nothing to worry about— He read the message at the plotting- table, with the three dispatchers ostenta- tiously busy in corners. Then he realized there were two Ray Finceks in the world. Darling In six months you’ll be the proud papa of a seven-pound boy. Kisses. Janet. The dispatchers knew of it, of course, for all their polite pretenses. He felt their eyes on him, felt their hands itching to pummel his back. He felt neither embarrassment nor pride —only relief. This was the out, the face- saver, the lifesaver. Now Twoie would have to go back. Ray ordered. Eomilcbooks.co