“Slim’s in trouble,” said a voice that Janet knew well. A close friend of them all was ringing her from Space Control.
“You’ll get it on the news any time now but I thought I’d warn you. He’s hurt, in the eyes, otherwise he’s OK. The ship is in poor shape but we’ll get him back.”
Almost at once there was some news on the TV screen. Even as Janet put down the phone, the commentator was saying: “One of our spacecraft has been damaged in an attack from a Soviet space interceptor. A rescue mission for its crew is being mounted and should soon be under way.”
“Marvellous!” said Janet to the children. “They’ll bring him back all right. You’ll see!”
There was someone at the door. An officer, who identified himself as coming on orders from Space Control, was with two Air Force men bringing in a TV set of a type Janet had not seen before. It was clearly not a model for domestic use. It looked like service equipment. The officer set it up, plugged in the power and made some adjustments.
“You can talk to Colonel Wentworth now,” he said, “when he comes up. He has been told to call you.”
What did all this mean? Janet found herself in the grip of a terrible fear.
She walked around the strange TV set, not touching it, and called the family friend in Space Control.
“There’s a shuttle going up to bring him out, isn’t there?” she asked. “They said there was.”
“I hope that’s true,” was the hesitant reply. “There aren’t many shots left right now. Everything depends on how the Joint Chiefs propose to use them.”
An hour later he called again. She had not yet been able to bring herself to touch the set.
“Janet, bad news. There’s only one rocket left that can get up there before the life support systems run out. The Joint Chiefs have ordered that shot to be used to replace a critical reconnaissance satellite taken out by Soviet interception.”
“You mean — they’re going to let Slim die, out there, when they could save him?”
“They have only one space shot left,” was the reply, “until
“But… but… the newsman said a rescue mission was being urgently prepared and would soon be on its way. He said that.”
“I am sorry, Janet, truly sorry. That’s only PR to allay public anxiety. You have to be told the truth.”
Janet was silent for a moment.
“What about the others in the crew out there?” she almost whispered. “What about them and their families too?”
“That’s being taken care of,” was the reply. “But time is running on. You can switch on the set now and pick up Slim.”
She did so. There on the screen was Slim, her beloved Slim, one of the only three people in her whole world who really mattered. He was in the cabin of the spacecraft surrounded by all the gadgetry but blundering about in his spacesuit even more than usual and uncertain in his movements. His eyes looked strange.
“Slim!” she said.
“Hello, love,” he said. “My eyes aren’t so good and I can’t see you but my God it’s good to hear you. How are things?”
“Good,” she lied. “Nicholas and Pamela are here. Say hello to daddy, children.”
“Hello, daddy,” came up in chorus.
“That’s great,” was the reply.
Janet watched a weightless, sightless spaceman fumbling about in the cabin. The voice was the same. That was Slim’s voice.
“Janet,” it said, “I love you.”
“Oh, Slim…”
“It can’t last long now, perhaps an hour or so, perhaps only minutes. I love you, Janet, I love you dearly and I am switching off.” The image vanished.
Janet, in her much loved and lived in home, sat down upon a sofa, dry-eyed and too stricken even for grief.
Suddenly a wail came from deep within her as from a dying animal.
“I hate you all!” she shouted and then in a flood of tears snatched the children to her and held them close.
When the war ended, a space mission recovered the orbiting bodies of the Captain and crew of
