Miners in the Sky Read Free Page A

case, no man would answer such a query, not even on Outlook with the pickup ship nearby. Someone asked how Dunne’s new partner liked the Rings? Who bossed the ship? This last was reference to the psychological warfare that often developed when two men were imprisoned together for weeks or months on end. Some men came to hate each other poisonously under such circumstances. Sometimes one partner arrived at Outlook fiercely demanding that the partnership be dissolved. And it was done, on the pickup ship. Sometimes two sets of partners switched companions, to find out later that the situation was not relieved.
    Dunne was known to have Keyes as a partner. Keyes was relatively new to the Rings. There were humorous queries. Had they fought? How had Keyes made out in the Rings? Hey, Keyes! How’re you doing? Is Dunne a tough character to get along with? They say he’s scared all the time he’s out of the ship in a space-suit. Does Keyes make you do all the out-of-ship work?
    The talk was ridiculous. It was childish. But it expressed the frantic impatience of the men in the donkey-ships for a change of any sort, any new sight or voice, Keyes didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He was back on the ring-fragment he and Dunne had discovered. The voices called for Keyes, to tell him hilariously of alleged tricks and chicaneries an experienced space-miner like Dunne might practice on him. But Keyes wasn’t there to answer.
    Dunne grimly got his ship to ground and anchored with its magnetic grapples. Voices called again for Keyes.
    Dunne said curtly, “He’s not here.”
    Voices said, “What happened?”
    Dunne said, “He’s not here!”
    Then he realized that he’d made a grave mistake. If he’d said that Keyes had cracked his faceplate when out of the ship, it would have been better. That was a perfectly credible accident. It might or might not be believed, but nothing would be done about it. Or if he said he’d killed Keyes, it would have been nobody’s business. But he shouldn’t have refused to give any explanation at all. That would lead to guesses. Guesses might be dangerously dose to the truth—that Dunne and Keyes had found a rock too precious to be left unguarded while one of them went to the pickup ship for air to breathe.
    There was a sudden silence. For a full half-minute the space about Outlook was startlingly still. Then somebody said something in a dry voice about the pickup ship taking its time. Other voices joined in. There was a sudden, absolute avoidance of the subject of Keyes. Because men would be making guesses. Dunne realized that he’d made an appalling blunder. Possibly half, or more than half, of the space-miners on Outlook would be debating whether or not to try to trail him when he went away. Their guess would be unanimous that Dunne and Keyes had found riches. Some would guess at enormous riches. A few would even guess at the Big Rock Candy Mountain.
    Then a booming voice spoke from Dunne’s communicator. It was the ultra-powerful transmitter of the pickup ship. It said, growling: “All right! I don’t hear any more drives. Maybe we’re all here. Let’s get to business. Who landed first?”
    A voice answered hilariously. It named a name. Another voice gave another name, very curt and businesslike. It had been second to arrive. There were other voices. A voice said, “Smithers.” There were other voices giving other names. An unctuous voice said, “Haney.” Dunne kept count. When it was time, when every other ship had answered, he said, “Dunne.”
    There was a pause. The names were being checked. Mail was doubtless already sorted, but men who had wives or kindred to write to them devoured mail just as men in prison do. But as for checking the names, Dunne could have done it himself. It was simply a matter of comparing the names just given with the names on the pickup ship’s last visit. There was a difference between the lists. Some ships didn’t answer.
    There was no comment. Nobody