Then the dead radio and the fouled-up plates.
But here was Neptune, bulging on the screen.
Darrel concentrated on his instruments—and began to check the ship's speed.
Before venturing out the airlock, he made a superficial check of the gravity plates. Not too bad. He could probably repair them in less than the seventy hours he'd thought he would need. The radio was in flawless condition. He switched on the transmitter, and sent signals crashing powerfully out into space. But the receiver received nothing. Not a spark, not a gasp.
Might as well look around outside.
Outside, unexpectedly, there was a girl. So beautiful it was a physical shock. Raven-black hair, cream skin and a small, sharply-outlined figure clothed in a strangely translucent yellow tunic. An incarnation of delicate loveliness. Fragile. Unbelievable.
She stood about twenty feet from the ship—waving. Waving listlessly and with an expression of infinite sadness on her face.
Darrel watched, dumbfounded, as the girl walked toward him hesitantly. Tears were glistening on her cheeks. Real human tears!
She kissed him. Soundly.