Pollux looked over these arrangements with distaste. The notion of cluttering up a ship with gadgetry to coddle the tender stomachs of groundhogs disgusted him. No wonder Hanshaws were fuel hogs!
But his father thought differently. He was happily stretched out in the pilot’s couch, fingering the controls. ‘This baby might do,’ he announced, ‘if the price is right.’
Castor said, ‘I thought you wanted this for the family?’
‘I do.’
‘Be pretty cramped in here once you rigged extra couches. Edith won’t like that’
‘You let me worry, about your mother. Anyhow, there are enough couches now.’
‘With only four? How do you figure?’
‘Me, your mother, your grandmother, and Buster. If Meade is along we’ll rig something for the baby. By which you may conclude that I am really serious about you two juvenile delinquents finishing your schooling. Now don’t blow your safeties! — I have it in mind that you two can use this crate to run around in after you finish school. Or even during vacations, once you get your unlimited licenses. Fair enough?’
The twins gave him the worst sort of argument to answer; neither of them said anything. Their expressions said everything that was necessary. Their father went on, ‘See here — I’m trying to be fair and I’m trying to be generous. But how many boys your age do you know, or have even heard of, who have their own ship? None — right? You should get it through your heads that you are not supermen.’
Castor grabbed at it. ‘How do you know that we are not “supermen”?’
Poliux followed through with, ‘Conjecture, pure conjecture.’ Before Mr Stone could think of an effective answer his mother poked her head up the power room hatch. Her expression seemed to say she had whiffed a very bad odor. Mr Stone said, ‘What’s the trouble, Hazel? Power plant on the blink?’
‘ “On the blink”, he says! Why, I wouldn’t lift this clunker at two gravities.’
‘What’s the matter with it?’
‘I never saw a more disgracefully abused — No, I won’t tell you. Inspect it yourself; you don’t trust my engineering ability.’
‘Now see here, Hazel, I’ve never told you I don’t trust your engineering.’
‘No, but you don’t. Don’t try to sweet-talk me; I know. So check the power room yourself. Pretend I haven’t seen it’
Her son turned away and headed for the outer door, saying huffily, ‘I’ve never suggested that you did not know power plants. If you are talking about that Gantry design, that was ten years ago; by now you should have forgiven me for being right about it.’
To the surprise of the twins Hazel did not continue the argument but followed her son docilely into the air lock. Mr Stone started down the rope ladder; Castor pulled his grandmother aside, switched off both her radio and his, and pushed his helmet into contact with hers so that he might speak with her in private. ‘Hazel, what was wrong with the power plant? Pol and I went through this ship last week — I didn’t spot anything too bad.’
Hazel look at him pityingly. ‘You’ve been losing sleep lately? It’s obvious — only four couches.’
‘Oh.’ Castor switched on his radio and silently followed his brother and father to the ground.
Etched on the stern of the next ship they visited was Cherub, Roma, Terra, and she actually was of the Carlotti Motors Angel series, though she resembled very little the giant Archangels, She was short — barely a hundred fifty feet high — and slender, and she was at least twenty years old. Mr Stone had been reluctant to inspect her. ‘She’s too big for us,’ he protested’ ‘and I’m not looking for a cargo ship.’
‘Too big how?’ Hazel asked ‘ “Too big” is a financial term, not a matter of size. And with her cargo hold empty, think how lively she’ll be. I like a ship that jumps when I twist its tail — and so do you.’
‘Mmmm, yes,’ he admitted. ‘Well, I suppose it doesn’t cost anything to look her over.’
‘You’re talking saner every day, son.’ Hazel reached for the rope ladder.
The ship was old and old-fashioned and she had plied many a lonely million miles of space, but, thanks to the preservative qualities of the Moon’s airless waste, she had not grown older since the last time her jets bad blasted. She had simply slumbered timelessly, waiting for someone to come along and appreciate her sleeping beauty. Her air had been salvaged; there was no dust in her compartments. Many of her auxiliary fittings had been stripped and sold, but she herself was bright and clean and spaceworthy.