"Well, you know. Surely you realized this was the only flight we could afford."
"What?"
"For the meantime, anyway. We may attempt another flight in fifty years, sixty perhaps, maybe more. But you've already proved space travel, Capt. Galus. The achievement is ours. All we need now is money to...."
"Damn it, I'm not Capt. Galus," Cal shouted. "And we've got to get back to Earth. I've got a kid, Mr. President. He's six years old and...." Cal stopped abruptly. "Oh, this is all nonsense. Why am I arguing with you? Can't you understand that we are Earthmen? What do we have to do to prove it?"
The President sighed and turned over the photographs on the desk. They were glossy prints of two men in uniform. They were young men, in khaki, smiles on their faces.
One man looked exactly like Calvin Manners.
The other strongly resembled David Langley.
"Here are your photographs," the President said. "This is you, captain, and you, lieutenant. They were taken before the trip. You're younger, of course."
Cal stared at the photograph. It could have been he. The nose was a little sharper, perhaps, and the face thinner. But it could have been he. It could have been he!
"It's a freak accident," he shouted. "A coincidence in two parallel cultures, a...."