Part 2 (1/2)
Captain Wiley's fingers drummed nervously on the base of the control panel. Lieutenant Gunderson rose from his couch, stood in the center of the cabin, then returned to his couch.
Silence, save for the constant, rumbling roar of the jets which held the s.h.i.+p aloft.
”I wonder how long it'll be,” murmured Fong at last.
”It seems like a long time!” burst Parker.
”We've waited nine years,” said Captain Wiley. ”We can wait a few more minutes.”
They waited.
”Good Lord!” said Parker. ”How long is it going to be? What time is it?
We've been waiting an hour! What kind of people are they down there?”
”Maybe they've forgotten about us,” said Fong.
”That's it!” cried Parker. ”They've forgotten about us! Hey, you! Down there-you that talked to us! We're still here, d.a.m.n it! We want to land!”
”Parker,” said Captain Wiley, sternly.
Parker sat down on his couch, his lips quivering.
Then came the voice:
”We regret that a landing is impossible at this moment. Our field is overcrowded, and your vessel is without priority. You must wait your turn.”
Captain Wiley stared forward at nothing. ”Whoever you are,” he whispered, ”please understand that we have come a long way to reach your planet. Our trip....”
”We do not wish to discuss your trip. You will be notified when landing s.p.a.ce is available.”
Captain Wiley's body shook. ”Wait, tell us who you are. What do you look like? Tell us....”
”Talking to you is quite difficult. We must form our thoughts so as to form word-patterns in your minds. You will be notified.”
”Wait a minute!” called Captain Wiley.
No answer.
Captain Wiley straightened in an effort to maintain dignity.
They waited....
It was night.
The darkness was an impenetrable blanket, a solid thing, like thick black velvet glued over the ports. It was worse than the darkness of s.p.a.ce.
Captain Wiley sat before the control panel, slowly beating his fists against the arms of his chair, a human metronome ticking off the slow seconds.
Parker stood before a porthole.