"You shouldn't be gone too long. It's a good spot to put your ladder down."
He helped himself to more coffee and stared into his cup. I knew—the watches near the end of a hop when you wondered about the dead, oily air, when the ones off watch kept watching the astrogator's expression, when you got the idea it was time to come in out of the dark before you made that one slip.
How many pick their landing? I thought. How many never know how close they come to making their mistake, or being a statistic in somebody else's?
"Why the double trance?" asked Meadows.
He brought with him a vague memory of departing chatter and tramping feet in the background. Howlet shoved out a chair for him.
"Everything okay?" asked Jorgensen, bustling up. "Buy anyone a drink?"
"What have they got there ... coffee?" asked Meadows, sniffing.
"Jimmy!" yelled Jorgensen to a waiter. "Pot of coffee for Ron! Hot!"
He slapped Meadows' shoulder and took his glowing red face away.
"What makes him your buddy?" I asked Meadows.