Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 36: what you’re looking at

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

70 ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION “Oh, come now! You cook like this, and they call you decoration?” Stan said in amazement. ‘““The young bucks hereabouts,” she explained, her chin on her knees and her hands clasped around her ankles, “believe in the old Indian saying: ‘Men do men’s work, women do women’s work.’ Cook and raise kids. Well, maybe some day, but not for a while.” ‘What are you going to do when you get your degree?” He was enjoying conversation with her. There was something out of the ordinary behind that pretty face, and it was a real change for him. “Who knows?” She shrugged her shoulders. “Somebody wants a plant chemist. I won’t be coming back to the ranch. You see, one of these days you rocket men will land on Mars, and I want to be handy. You'll need plant chemists then, captain.” “Call me Stan; I dislike titles,” he told her. “You're certainly dedicated to your cause, Rosie. What will be so different about the lichens on Mars?” “How do you know they are lichens? How do you know life is the same everywhere? That’s why I'd like to study the evolution of a different planet. It may change our whole outlook by giving us a new concept of the structure and meaning of life. That’s why I want to study Extraterrestrial life, Stan; there’s so much to learn.” “True—ld never thought of it that way, Rosie,” he admitted. “By the way, does that stand for Rose?” ) ‘“‘No—Rosita Anita Euphemia Cameron de Cortinez.” “Wow! No wonder they call you Rosie!” “It’s been three generations since the Cameron and Cortinez families intermarried,” she explained. ‘““We’ve kept the names. They go with this country. Where are you from, Stan?” ‘Me? Chicago . . . big city, stinking city . . . people all over the place. My dad was with the city engineer, but I got out of the town. Spent four years at the Air Academy in Colorado; applied for space, and got it, and... here I am, years older, still not rich, and still not famous.” “But you must be competent; you’re the skipper of a spaceship,” Rosie pointed out. *““That’s my job; that’s all ve got.” It was dark now around the Pendray. The Plains of San Augustine lay bathed in the light of a full moon hanging over the Black Range to the southeast. Stan glanced at his watch; he was now scheduled to pick up his date in El Paso, but he dismissed the thought. Just sitting out here on the desert under the rocket nozzles of the old Penny was more satisfying than a night of pub-crawling in Juarez. It might not have been without Rosie. Without a doubt, the launching of the spaceship Pendray from the Plains of San Augustine was going to be one of the biggest engineering jobs tackled since the construction of the Narrows Bridge. It was a situation comparable to having the Queen Mary or the SS Eisenhower stranded in the same spot. Such a thing would provide news interest and television programs without number during the usually lax summer period. The next day, bulldozers began pushing through a road from Horse Springs. In the meantime, helicopters brought in men, tents, test equipment, sections THE PLAINS OF SAN AUGUSTINE 71 of light gantry crane, and anything that could be lifted by the whirling blades. In four days, a black-top road had reached the Pendray, and trucks began to show up. Technicians and mechanics, cursing the dumb pilot who made them come all the way out here to service his ship, swarmed over the Pendray. A small town grew up around the ship while the roar of gas-turbine electric generators filled the desert day and night. Stan had his hands full supervising the job. He had to detail a group of men to handle the television and news services and give out a statement of progress each evening. TV carried direct pickups of the activity in the middle of the New Mexico desert. Tourists and casual on-lookers tried to get in to the’ site, and guards had to be posted to keep the roads clear for the trucks which brought in supplies. Within two weeks, the Plains of San Augustine looked like the little brother of White Sands across the mountains. But the bustling activity was lost amidst the vastness of the basin. Only at night did the desert really come alive with sparkling lights, the floodlit silver needle of the Pendray looming high above all. It was not a simple job to check out the Pendray for flight. A spaceship is a complex mechanism with hundreds of interacting systems which must work perfectly. On more than one occasion, Stan and Pete had to be satisfied with inadequate, incomplete, or improvised methods. No amount of portable equipment could match the magnificent, accurate, complete—and bulky— checkout devices in the hangers, labs, and launching pads of White Sands. To Stan, it meant taking the awful chance of losing his ship if something went wrong—or having to leave it there. He drove on with only one apparent purpose: to get the Pendray back into space. There was no doubtim his mind but what it could be done; it was only a matter of when. His schedule was interrupted finally by an invitation to supper at the Cortinez ranch. Taking a jeep, he and Pete drove over to the ranchhouse in the foothills of the mountains. The country there was in direct contrast to that where the ship was; low junipers and pinon pines dotted the rolling red hills, and a sparkling stream dashed by only to lose itself on the desert miles away. The house itself was very old, but its adobe walls were in perfect condition. The sheds and corrals were of the same vintage, but showed care and upkeep; a green lawn grew before the house. It was nothing fancy; it looked—comfortable, Stan decided. WAP Cortinez greeted them as they drove up, and was attired for a change in clean Levis, a flashy pair of boots, a spotless white shirt, and a black string tie. “Come on in, boys! Been waiting for you!” Relaxing in the decor of Spanish architecture, they accepted a drink which the rancher poured for them. Mrs Timberly turned out to be a plump, gray-haired old lady who undoubtedly ruled the Cortinez household with the proverbial mailed fist. “You gentlemen sit down. I’ve got to wait supper for Gabe and George. They went down to get a yearling out of the wire.” “Sure, we'll wait,” Cortinez said. “Rosie ain’t ready anyhow. Been back in her room for the past hour gettin’ ready. Acts [bo ale taken to you boys. Hah!” he guffawed, then | FO} NtEeEpooKks. co = Ui,