We walked back to Number Four Airlock in a silence that had me counting the footsteps. When we reached the tractor parking lot, I cleared my throat.
"Wait a minute. I'll warm up my sand-saucer and give you a lift to your ship."
"Maybe we won't need to impose on you any more, Tony," said Howlet. "Looks like those machines over there are going out."
I followed his gesture and, by luck, caught the eye of a driver I knew. I waved and jerked my thumb at the spacers beside me.
"Let's go!" said Howlet as the tractor slowed. "Thanks for everything, Tony. Get yourself some sleep; the night watches in these domes are rough."
Konnel waited until they were a few steps away. Even then, he hesitated.
"Forget it!" I said. "You aren't the first spacer they had to pump out of some odd corner. Look me up when you get back!"
He shook hands and trotted after his friends. They scrambled up the ladder to the cab. The tractor picked up speed, lumbering into the airlock.
Later, a little after noon, I crawled out of bed and watched the flare of their pipes as the ship streaked up into the dark Martian sky. I hoped they would make it—almost as much as I wished it could have been me.
Well, I still come out to the wall of whatever dome I find myself in, to watch the sky a while—not that I'll see those boys coming down at this late date! They must have splattered to a puddle on Jupiter, or slipped back into the sun, or taken up a cold, dark orbit out where they'll never bother anyone. Nobody will ever know for sure, I suppose.