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A sky full of bright stars, growing brighter and closer by the moment, was beckoning to him. He saw the Crewmen coming from their posts now; the rumor had flitted rapidly around the ship, it seemed. They were all there, Art Kandin and Dan Kelleher and a gaping Judy Collier and Roger Bond and all the rest of them. "You won't be leaving right away, will you?" the Captain asked.
He was weary from having carried Steve so long. He put the sleeping form down against a window-seat facing one of the viewscreens, and said to Rat, "You stay here and keep watch. If anyone wants to know who he is, tell them the truth." "Right enough." Alan found Art Kandin where he expected to find him in the Central Control Room, posting work assignments for the blastoff tomorrow.
But how come you're loafing now? Seems to me you'd be busy as a Martian dustdigger today, of all days. Who's setting up the landing orbit, if you're here?" "Oh, that's all been done," Kandin said lightly. "Your Dad and I were up all last night working out the whole landing procedure." He reached out and took Rat from Alan's shoulder, and began to tickle him with his forefinger.
That's one of the strangest quirks of star travel that's been recorded yet." "I thought of that. He's twenty-six, I'm seventeen, and yet we used to be twins. But the Fitzgerald Contraction does funny things." "That's for sure," Kandin said. "Well, time for me to start relaxing." He clapped Alan on the back, disentangled his long legs from the bench, and was gone.
They ate in silence. Alan was halfway through his bowl of protein mix when Art Kandin dropped down onto his bench facing him. The Valhalla's First Officer was a big pudgy-faced man who had the difficult job of translating the concise, sometimes almost cryptic commands of Alan's father into the actions that kept the great starship going. "Good rising, Alan. And happy birthday." "Thanks, Art.
Kandin flushed and looked down. "I'm sorry, Alan. I didn't mean well " They fell silent. Alan returned his attention to his breakfast, while Kandin stared moodily off into the distance. "You know," the First Officer said finally, "I've been thinking about Steve. It just struck me that you can't call him your twin any more.
Alan remembered his father's hard, grim expression as he had been told the story. Captain Donnell's reaction had been curt, immediate, and thoroughly typical: he had nodded, closed the roll book, and turned to Art Kandin, the Valhalla's First Officer and the Captain's second-in-command. "Remove Crewman Donnell from the roster," he had snapped. "All other hands are on board. Prepare for blastoff."
We'll touch down tonight and move into the Enclave tomorrow." Kandin eyed Alan with sudden suspicion. "You're planning to stay in the Enclave, aren't you?" Alan put down his fork with a sharp tinny clang and stared levelly at the First Officer. "That's a direct crack. You're referring to my brother, aren't you?" "Who wouldn't be?" Kandin asked quietly. "The captain's son jumping ship?
The lanky, pudgy-faced First Officer hardly noticed as Alan stepped up beside him. "Art?" Kandin turned and went pale. "Oh Alan. Where in blazes have you been the last two days?" "Out in the Earther city. Did my father make much of a fuss?" The First Officer shook his head. "He kept saying you just went out to see the sights, that you hadn't really jumped ship.
Rat responded with a playful nip of his sharp little teeth. "I'm taking the morning off," Kandin continued. "You can't imagine how nice it's going to be to sit around doing nothing while everyone else is working, for a change." "What's the landing hour?" "Precisely 1753 tonight. It's all been worked out. We actually are in the landing orbit now, though the ship's gimbals keep you from feeling it.
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