Fantastic Stories Present the Galaxy Science Fiction Super Pack #1. Edgar Pangborn

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СКАЧАТЬ stricken and somebody said, “Oh, shut up, Dahl.”

      One of the men separated from the group and came over to Chapman. He held out his hand and said, “My name’s Eberlein. Captain of the relief ship. I understand you’re in charge here?”

      Chapman nodded and shook hands. They hadn’t had a captain on the First ship. Just a pilot and crew. Eberlein looked every inch a captain, too. Craggy face, gray hair, the firm chin of a man who was sure of himself.

      “You might say I’m in charge here,” Chapman said.

      “Well, look, Mr. Chapman, is there any place where we can talk together privately?”

      They walked over to one corner of the bunker. “This is about as private as we can get, captain,” Chapman said. “What’s on your mind?”

      *

      Eberlein found a packing crate and made himself comfortable. He looked at Chapman.

      “I’ve always wanted to meet the man who’s spent more time here than anybody else,” he began.

      “I’m sure you wanted to see me for more reasons than just curiosity.”

      Eberlein took out a pack of cigarets. “Mind if I smoke?”

      Chapman jerked a thumb toward Dahl. “Ask him. He’s in charge now.”

      The captain didn’t bother. He put the pack away. “You know we have big plans for the station,” he said.

      “I hadn’t heard of them.”

      “Oh, yes, big plans. They’re working on unmanned, open-side rockets now that could carry cargo and sheet steel for more bunkers like this. Enable us to enlarge the unit, have a series of bunkers all linked together. Make good laboratories and living quarters for you people.” His eyes swept the room. “Have a little privacy for a change.”

      Chapman nodded. “They could use a little privacy up here.”

      The captain noticed the pronoun. “Well, that’s one of the reasons why I wanted to talk to you, Chapman. The Commission talked it over and they’d like to see you stay. They feel if they’re going to enlarge it, add more bunkers and have more men up here, that a man of practical experience should be running things. They figure that you’re the only man who’s capable and who’s had the experience.”

      The captain vaguely felt the approach was all wrong.

      “Is that all?”

      Eberlein was ill at ease. “Naturally you’d be paid well. I don’t imagine any man would like being here all the time. They’re prepared to double your salary—maybe even a bonus in addition—and let you have full charge. You’d be Director of the Luna Laboratories.”

      All this and a title too, Chapman thought.

      “That’s it?” Chapman asked.

      Eberlein frowned. “Well, the Commission said they’d be willing to consider anything else you had in mind, if it was more money or....”

      “The answer is no,” Chapman said. “I’m not interested in more money for staying because I’m not interested in staying. Money can’t buy it, captain. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid that you’d have to stay up here to appreciate that.

      “Bob Dahl is staying for stopover. If there’s something important about the project or impending changes, perhaps you’d better tell him before you go.”

      He walked away.

      *

      Chapman held the letter in both hands, but the paper still shook. The others had left the bunker, the men of the Second taking those of the Third in hand to show them the machinery and apparatus that was outside, point out the deadly blisters underneath the pumice covering, and show them how to keep out of the Sun and how to watch their air supply.

      He was glad he was alone. He felt something trickle down his face and tasted salt on his lips.

      The mail had been distributed and he had saved his latest letter until the others had left so he could read it in privacy. It was a short letter, very short.

      It started: “Dear Joel: This isn’t going to be a nice letter, but I thought it best that you should know before you came home.”

      There was more to it, but he hadn’t even needed to read it to know what it said. It wasn’t original, of course. Women who change their minds weren’t exactly an innovation, either.

      He crumpled the paper and held a match to it and watched it burn on the steel floor.

      Three years had been a long time. It was too long a time to keep loving a man who was a quarter of a million miles away. She could look up in the night sky when she was out with somebody else now and tell him how she had once been engaged to the Man in the Moon.

      It would make good conversation. It would be funny. A joke.

      He got up and walked over to his phonograph and put the record on. The somewhat scratchy voice sang as if nothing had happened

      Way Back Home by Al Lewis.

      The record caught and started repeating the last line.

      He hadn’t actually wanted to play it. It had been an automatic response. He had played it lots of times before when he had thought of Earth. Of going home.

      He crossed over and threw the record across the bunker and watched it shatter on the steel wall and the pieces fall to the floor.

      The others came back in the bunker and the men of the Second started grabbing their bags and few belongings and getting ready to leave. Dahl sat in a corner, a peculiar expression on his face. He looked as if he wanted to cry and yet still felt that the occasion was one for rejoicing.

      Chapman walked over to him. “Get your stuff and leave with the others, Dahl.” His voice was quiet and hard.

      Dahl looked up, opened his mouth to say something, and then shut up. Donley and Bening and Dowden were already in the airlock, ready to leave. Klein caught the conversation and came over. He gripped Chapman’s arm.

      “What the hell’s going on, Chap? Get your bag and let’s go. I know just the bistro to throw a whing-ding when we get—”

      “I’m not going back,” Chapman said.

      Klein looked annoyed, not believing him. “Come on, what’s the matter with you? You suddenly decide you don’t like the blue sky and trees and stuff? Let’s go!”

      The men in the lock were looking at them questioningly. Some members of the Third looked embarrassed, like outsiders caught in a family argument.

      “Look, Julius, I’m not going back,” Chapman repeated dully. “I haven’t anything to go back for.”

      “You’re doing a much braver thing than you may think,” a voice cut in. It belonged to Eberlein.

      Chapman looked at him. Eberlein flushed, СКАЧАТЬ