INTERPLANETARY PATROL Cadet Matthew Dodson sat in the waiting room of Pikes Peak Catapult Station and watched the clock. He had an hour to wait before boarding the New Moon for Terra Station; meanwhile he was expecting his roommates.
It had been a good leave, he supposed; he had done everything he had planned to do-except joining the others at the Jarman ranch at the end; his mother had kicked up such a fuss at the idea.
Still, it had been a good leave. His space-burned face,
lean and beginning to be lined, looked slightly puzzled. He had confided to no one his tentative intention of resigning while on leave. Now he was trying to remember just when and why it had ceased to be his intention. *
He had been sent on temporary duty to the P.R.S Nobel, as assistant to the astrogator during a routine patrol of cir-cum-Terra bomb-rockets. Matt had joined his ship at Moon Base and, at the conclusion of the patrol when the Nobel had grounded at Terra Base for overhaul, was detached with permission to take leave before reporting back to the Randolph. He had gone straight home.
The entire family met him at the station and copied him home. His mother had cried a little and his father had shaken hands very vigorously. It seemed to Matt that his kid brother had grown almost incredibly. It was good to see them, good to be back in the old family bus. Matt would have piloted the copter himself had not Billie, his brother, gone straight to the controls.
The house had been redecorated throughout. His mother obviously expected favorable comment and Matt had given it-but he hadn't really liked the change. It had not been what he had pictured. Besides that, the rooms seemed smaller. He decided that it must be the effect of redecorating; the house couldn't have shrunk!
His own room was filled with Bill's things, although Bill had been temporarily evicted to his old room, now turned into a hobby room for his toother. The new arrangements were sensible, reasonable-and annoying.
In thinking it over Matt knew that the changes at home had had nothing to do with his decision. Certainly not! Nor his father's remarks about posture, even though they had stuck in his craw-He and his father had been alone in the living room, just before dinner, and Matt had been pacing up and down, giving an animated and, he believed, interesting account of the first time he had soloed. His father had taken advantage of a pause to say, "Stand up, son."
Matt stopped. "Sir?"