"Good," said Delman. "I shan't delay you more than a few minutes longer."
"Oh, no delay, I assure you, sir," the Captain replied hastily. "Only too happy to be of service. The crew asked me to thank you on their behalf, sir, for your great generosity. It was more than—er—generous." Words seemed to fail him.
"Not at all, Captain," Delman said. "You've all done your best to make the crossing as comfortable as possible and I'm very grateful to you. Perhaps you'd do one more thing for me on your return—deliver this to my representative in London." He pointed to the recording machine.
"Certainly, sir."
"Then that takes care of everything." The great lawyer rose creakily to his feet. Though bent with age, he was still an impressive figure, tall and powerfully built, his white hair spilling out over the massive forehead. "I suppose the press is here?"
"I'm afraid so, sir."
"Well, one can't dodge them on Jupiter. There's no room to move as it is."
The Captain laughed sympathetically. No one knew better than himself the limitations of the planet. He'd lived here as a child, grown up under that plastic bubble which Man had built to preserve an atmosphere—two thousand acres of habitable land in a wilderness of millions of square miles. It was enough to break the heart of any boy.
Delman stooped to pick up his two heavy canes. The Captain leaped forward and handed them to him. Then lawyer and skipper left the suite and moved slowly toward the gangway. As they reached the steps, the Captain broke the silence.