II
The low spit guarding the harbor entrance was only a slightly deeper blue than the water and perpetual overcast of Venus. Captain Ratterman sighed, reported "No charts," and spoke into the communicator, "Cut speed to eight knots, use full automatics on the bottom sonics," then he turned to the pair beside him on the bridge. "I'm not being inhospitable. In fact, you're welcome to stay as long as you please. But it's fair to warn you that we won't be docking for another three hours."
"We love your company," said Ann Starnes, but Heidekopfer picked at her arm, and led her toward the gangway. When they had reached the low, flat bow with the water whispering softly beneath, he said, "How about it, Ann? Why not marry me now and save trouble? You're going to anyway, some day, and it might be a protection here."
She put a hand over one of his. "No, Bob. Not now. I'll give you first place on the list, but I'm not going to marry you—or anybody else—until I'm something more than a failure."
"You're no failure. The fact that you were selected for this job proves it."
"Just a competent mechanical photographer, Bob—you needn't tell me. I was picked because I had worked with you before, and your work is important."
"Look ..." he started to say, then let it trail off. They had argued the point so often it was like another trip on a merry-go-round. Ann said, "I don't want to be just a wife, like Rosa Lanzerotti."
He moved. "Do you think she's—a failure?"
"No-o. Not within her own dimension. It just isn't mine. I want to be something more important than a good mechanical photographer."