Those who were not on flight duty crowded into the tiny central cabin,
where they elbowed each other before the viewer. The ball of alien
earth grew from a pinpoint to the size of an orange. They forgot time
in the wonder which none had ever thought in his heart he would see on
the screen. Raf knew that in control every second of this was being
recorded as they began to establish a braking orbit, which with luck
would bring them down on the surface of the new world.
"Cities--those must be cities!" Those in the cabin studied the plate
with awe as the information filtered through the crew. Lablet, their
xenobiologist, sat with his fingers rigid on the lower bar of the visa
plate, so intent that nothing could break his vigil, while the rest
speculated wildly. Had they really seen cities?
Raf went down the corridor to the door of the sealed compartment that
held the machine and the supplies for which he was responsible. These
last hours of waiting were worse with their nagging suspense than all
the time which had gone before. If they could only set down!
He had, on training trips which now seemed very far in the past, trod
the rust-red desert country of Mars, waddled in a bulky protective
suit across the peaked ranges of the dead Moon, known something of the
larger asteroids. But how would it feel to tread ground warmed by the
rays of another sun? Imagination with which his superiors did not
credit him began to stir. Traits inherited from a mixture of races
were there to be summoned. Raf retreated once more into his cabin and
sat on his bunk pad, staring down at his own capable mechanic's hands
without seeing them, picturing instead all the wonders which might lie
just beyond the next few hours' imprisonment in this metallic shell he
had grown to hate with a dull but abiding hatred.
Although he knew that Hobart must be fully as eager as any of them to
land, it seemed to Raf, and the other impatient crew members, that
they were very long in entering the atmosphere of the chosen world. It
was only when the order came to strap down for deceleration that they
were in a measure satisfied. Pull of gravity, ship beaming in at an
angle which swept it from night to day or night again as it encircled
that unknown globe. They could not watch their objective any longer.
The future depended entirely upon the skill of the three men in
control--and last of all upon Hobart's judgment and skill.
The captain brought them down, riding the flaming counter-blasts from
the ship's tail to set her on her fins in an expert point landing, so
that the _RS 10_ was a finger of light into the sky, amid wisps of
smoke from brush ignited by her landing.
There was another wait which seemed endless to the restless men
within, a wait until the air was analyzed, the countryside surveyed.
But when the go-ahead signal was given and the ramp swung out, those
first at the hatch still hesitated for an instant or so, though the
way before them was open.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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