SLOW BURN
BY HENRY STILL
The problems of space were multiple enough
without the opinions and treachery of Senator
McKelvie—who really put the "fat into the fire".
All Kevin had to do was get it out....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, October 1955.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Tell 'em to look sharp, Bert. This pickup's got to be good." Kevin Morrow gulped the last of his coffee and felt its bitter acid gurgle around his stomach. He stared moodily through the plastic port where the spangled skirt of stars glittered against the black satin of endless night and a familiar curve of the space station swung ponderously around its hub.
Four space-suited tugmen floated languidly outside the rim. Beyond them the gleaming black and white moonship tugged gently at her mooring lines, as though anxious to be off.
Bert Alexander radioed quiet instructions to the tugmen.
"Why the hell couldn't he stay down there and mind his own business?" Kevin growled. "McKelvie's been after our hide ever since we got the appropriation, and now this." He slapped the flimsy radio-gram.