Station in Space by James Gunn

Author:James Gunn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Roca Editorial/Open Road Español
Published: 1985-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

* * * *

“I beg your pardon, sir,” the voice repeated.

Phillips looked up, his thoughts shattered into shards that could never be quite pieced together again. A second lieutenant in the Space Corps stood respectfully in front of him, his blue space helmet dangling from one hand. Phillips glanced quickly at the far corner of the room, but it was empty, and looked back at the lieutenant.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the lieutenant for the third time, “but I was wondering—you don't seem to be watching the screen"—he motioned boyishly toward the far wall—"if you'd mind if I switched channels."

He was a young man—slim, tall, broad-shouldered, and blond, his hair trimmed almost scalp short in the latest spacecut—and he wore the most delightfully engaging grin. The kind of young man, in fact, for whom a uniform did the most and who did the most for a uniform. His face had sunburned and peeled and sunburned and peeled again until it was a light tan, but he would never develop any real immunity to ultraviolet. His blue eyes looked directly at Philips without wavering. He was a completely normal young man, a Space Corps recruiting poster come to life, and Phillips’ irritation collapsed.

“Go right ahead,” Phillips said. In a moment the swans gave way to an amazing exhibition of acrobatics in zero gravity, but the young lieutenant, after he had returned and taken a pneumatic, leather chair next to Phillips, gave the performance none of his attention. He turned immediately to the psychologist and said eagerly, “Are you going out, sir?"

“Yes."

“Your first?"

Phillips smiled involuntarily. “To the Little Wheel."

“Then you have an experience in store."

“I expect you're right.” Phillips’ smile broadened.

“We'll be going out together,” the boy said with great enthusiasm.

“Fine.” Phillips grinned.

The lieutenant looked sheepish. “I beg your pardon, sir. I talk too much, don't I? It's just that I'm returning from a short leave, and I can't wait to get back. My name is Grant. Jack Grant."

Grant, Phillips thought. Both parents living, happily married. Normally affectionate family relationship. Older brother a solar power engineer. Younger sister in high school. Normal adolescent sexual experiences. Six months service outside. Well-adjusted personality for his age when he left the Academy.

Phillips frowned. He didn't fit into the pattern at all. Why had he gone out? “Lloyd Phillips,” he said.

Grant went on chattering unabashed, telling Phillips about the Academy, about the Wheel, about his recent leave and the girl he had met and what they had done—stopping just short of the fine line between gentleman and jerk. His appetite for experience and his unquenchable good humor were infectious. He reminded Phillips of a playful puppy, bounding violently, his stub of a tail shaking his body all over with its gyrations. Phillips thawed once more in spite of himself and gave the boy a verbal pat on the head occasionally.

“What kind of man is Colonel Danton?” Phillips asked casually.

Grant's smile faded. He looked serious for a moment and said, “A very good officer, sir. A brilliant commander, completely loyal to his men and gets their loyalty in return.

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