Calling Phil Mooney. Calling Phil Mooney. Oneonta Spaceport Calling Phil Mooney. Come in Mooney.
Ed Kerry came back to the city room with a sheet of yellow paper that he'd torn off the radiotype.
He said, "Here it is, Jake. This kid—her name is Lillian Marshall—is the only survivor of an explosion at that nuclear-fission laboratory they had on the dark side. Her old man and her mother were working under this Professor Deems; both of them killed."
His eyes went on scanning the story. "Evidently this Phil Mooney runs an unscheduled spaceline. Anyway, he blasted off to rush the kid to an earth hospital."
Jake took the dispatch and scowled at it. "Kerry," he growled, "see what we got on this Phil Mooney in the morgue." He rubbed the end of his nose thoughtfully. "They'll probably pick him up all right when he gets nearer."
Somebody on rewrite said, "It doesn't make any difference how far he is; they should be able to reach him even if he was halfway to Mars. Something's wrong with his set."
He decided to try one of the other spaceports. As a matter of fact, it made very little difference at which of them he landed. There'd be suitable hospital facilities within reasonable distance of any spaceport. He was three days out now, and, according to spaceways custom, had to let them know he was coming in. It wasn't like landing an airplane—they want plenty of time to prepare for a spacecraft's arrival.
He said, "Calling New Albuquerque Spaceport. Calling New Albuquerque Spaceport. Phil Mooney, Luna, Calling New Albuquerque. Please come in New Albuquerque."