Palmer shouted after Scott. "So long, big boy. It was nice knowing you."
Scott shrugged. Palmer was a little drunk and very bitter. He'd watched them go too long. His nerves were wearing out.
Stars shone like hard, bright jewels in the African sky. A sharp wind blew over the summit of Mt. Kenya, a wind that whined among the ice-bound rocks and bit deep into the flesh. Far below blazed the lights of the base camp, hundreds of feet down the slope from the main rocket camp here atop the mountain set squarely on the Earth's equator.
The rasping voice of a radio newscaster came from the open door of the machine shop.
"New York," shrieked the announcer. "Austin Gordon, famous African explorer, announced this afternoon he will leave soon for the Congo valley, where he will investigate reports of a strange metallic city deep in the interior. Natives, bringing reports of the discovery out of the jungle, claim the city is inhabited by strange metallic insects."
Someone slammed the door and the voice was cut off.
Scott hunched into the wind to light a cigarette.
"The explorers are going crazy, too," he said.
Probably, later on in the program the announcer would have mentioned Scott Nixon and Jack Riley would blast off in a few minutes in another attempt to reach Mars. But it would be well along in the program and it wouldn't take much time. Ten years ago Mars had been big news. Today it rated small heads in the press, slight mention on the air.