Space Station 1 by Frank Belknap Long

Author:Frank Belknap Long [Long, Frank Belknap]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1258288198
Goodreads: 3782267-space-station-1
Publisher: Ace Books
Published: 1957-10-22T16:00:00+00:00

12

He was staring at her across a shadowed room, with the pale glimmer of a cabin viewport above her right shoulder, a very small port that looked like a full moon glimmering high in the sky through a sea of mist.

Her face was very white and she was staring back at him as if he had come suddenly out of nowhere.

She hesitated only an instant and then walked straight toward him, walked right up to him and touched him gently on the face.

"I'm so glad," she said.

She drew back then and looked at him and smiled. "I was afraid you were in trouble because of me," she said, "some terrible kind of trouble, and I couldn't help you at all. I kept blaming myself for everything foolish that I had ever done, going way back to the day when I broke my first doll, deliberately and spitefully, because I was a very headstrong little girl."

"I'm afraid I've always been pretty headstrong myself," Corriston said. "But being a boy, I naturally couldn't break dolls. I just wrecked the family's peace of mind."

"We all go through life with a great deal of foolish luggage," she said. "And sometimes you have an impulse to just drop everything—and run away."

"I can understand that," Corriston said. "But did you have to run away quite so fast? It's hard to believe it was for anybody's good, including your own."

"It might have been," she said. "It might have been for my good and then later, partly for your good. Please don't judge me too harshly before I've had a chance to tell you exactly what happened."

He reached out for her and kissed her even as she came into his arms. He had expected her to be angry, to withdraw, but instead she encircled his strong back with a surprising fierceness. When he released her, her eyes were shining.

"I'm glad you did that ... darling! Very glad. But we're still in trouble."

"I know that. But we're in love, too. And you just promised to tell me what happened."

"Well, I guess I just ... just regressed."

"You what?"

"Regressed. You know, like when I was a headstrong little brat of a child. We all do that at times. You'll have to admit there was some excuse for me. You weren't born in a house with a hundred rooms, with servants always coming and going, and outside gardens with big red and yellow flowers where you couldn't even run and hide without being smothered, without being searched for and brought screaming and kicking back inside.

"You don't know what it means to know you haven't a father, only a stern, cold, black-coated man standing away off in the darkness somewhere and watching people bow down before him.

"You don't know what it means to be told: 'You're Stephen Ramsey's daughter. Behave. Behave. Behave!'"

"I scarcely ever saw my father. And when I did see him he was as cold as one of the slabs in the big mausoleum he took so much pride in, the big family mausoleum which only a Ramsey was permitted to visit.

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