"Yes," Tom said. "Sorry."
The man shrugged. "Things happen. Even on Earth, things happen."
"Tell me something." Tom leaned forward. "Is it true about—" He paused, embarrassed. "Well, you hear a lot of stories. But I understand some of the men on that flight, the ones who got back all right, had children. And—well, you know how rumors go—"
"Lies," Spencer said, without rancor. "I've got two kids myself. Both of 'em normal."
"Oh." Tom tried to hide his disappointment behind the cocktail glass. It would have made great copy, if he could have proved the truth of the old rumor about two-headed babies. But what could Sergeant Spencer do for the PR program? Andrusco must have had something in mind.
He asked him point-blank.
"It's like this," the man said, his eyes distant. "Since I quit the service, I haven't been doin' so good. With jobs, I mean. And Mr. Andrusco—he said he'd give me five thousand dollars if I'd—help you people."
"Did Mr. Andrusco describe this help?"
"Yeah. He wants me to do a story. About the kid my wife had. The first kid."