A TENDERFOOT IN SPACE
A TENDERFOOT IN SPACE
When this book was in process, Dr. Kondo asked me whether there were any stories of Robert’s which had not been reprinted. On looking over the list of stories, I found that “A Tenderfoot in Space” had never been printed in anything except when it originally appeared in Boys’ Life. All copies in our possession had been sent to the UCSC Archives, so! asked them to Xerox those and send them to me. And found this introduction by Robert, which he had added to the carbon in the library before he sent it down there. I was completely surprised, and asked Dr. Kondo whether he would like to use it? Here it is.
—Virginia Heinlein
This was written a year before Sputnik and is laid on the Venus earthbound astronomers inferred before space probes. Two hours of rewriting—a word here, a word there—could change it to a planet around some other star. But to. what purpose? Would The Tempset be improved if Bohemia had a sea coast? If! ever publish that
collection of Boy Scout stories, this story will appear unchanged.
Nixie is (of course) my own dog. But in 1919, when I was 12 and a Scout, he had to leave me—a streetcar hit him.
If this universe has any reasonable teleology whatever (a point on which I am unsure), then there is some provision for the Nixies in it.
I
“Heel, Nixie,” the boy said softly, “and keep quiet.”
The little mongrel took position left and rear of his boy, waited. He could feel that Charlie was upset and he wanted to know why—but an order from Charlie could not be questioned.
The boy tried to see whether or not the policeman was. noticing them. He felt light-headed—neither he nor his dog had eaten that day. They had stopped in front of this supermarket, not to buy for the boy had no money left, but because of a “BOY WANTED” sign in the window.
It was then that he had noticed the reflection of the policeman in the glass.
The boy hesitated, trying to collect his cloudy thoughts. Should he go inside and ask for the job? Or should he saunter past the policeman? Pretend to be just out for a walk?
The boy decided to go on, get out of sight. He signalled the dog to stay close and turned away from the window. Nixie came along, tail high. He did not care where they went as long as he was with Charlie. Charlie had belonged to him as far back as he could remember; he could imagine no other condition. In fact Nixie would not have lived past his tenth day had not Charlie fallen in love with him; Nixie had been the least attractive of an unfortunate litter; his mother was Champion Lady Diana of Ojai—his father was unknown.
But Nixie was not aware that a neighbor boy had begged his life from his first owners. His philosophy was simple: enough to eat, enough sleep, and the rest of his time spent playing with Charlie. This present outing had been Charlie’s idea, but any outing was welcome. The shortage of food was a nuisance but Nixie automatically forgave Charlie such errors—after all, boys will be boys and a wise dog accepted the fact. The only thing that troubled him was that Charlie did not have the happy heart which was a proper part of all hikes.
As they moved past the man in the blue uniform, Nixie felt the man’s interest in them, sniffed his odor, but could find no real unfriendliness in it. But Charlie was nervous, alert, so Nixie kept his own attention high.
The man in uniform said, “Just a moment, son—”
Charlie stopped, Nixie stopped. “You speaking to me, officer?”
“Yes. What’s your dog’s name?”
Nixie felt Charlie’s sudden terror, got ready to attack. He had never yet had to bite anyone for his boy—but he was instantly ready. The hair between his shoulder blades stood up.
Charlie answered, “Uh. . . his name is ‘Spot.”
“So?” The stranger said sharply, “Nixie!”
Nixie had been keeping his eyes elsewhere, in order not to distract his ears, his nose, and the inner sense with which he touched people’s feelings. But he was so startled at hearing this stranger call him by name that he turned his head and looked at him.