"Which," Joe assured him, "I commit only because there's a robot ship from Bootstrap coming up any time now. And we'll need to pick it up and tow it here."
He went to the control-room to see if he could get a vision connection to Earth.
He got the beam, and he got Sally on the screen. A report of the attack on the Platform had evidently already gone down to Earth. Sally's expression was somehow drawn and haunted. But she tried to talk lightly.
"Derring-do and stuff, Joe?" she asked. "How does it feel to be a victorious warrior?"
"It feels rotten," he told her. "There must have been somebody in the rocket we blew up. He felt like a patriot, I guess, trying to murder us; But I feel like a butcher."
"Maybe you didn't do it," she said. "Maybe the Chief's bombs——"
"Maybe," said Joe. He hesitated. "Hold up your hand."
She held it up. His ring was still on it. She nodded. "Still there. When will you be back?"
He shook his head. He didn't know. It was curious that one wanted so badly to talk to a girl after doing something that was blood-stirring—and left one rather sickish afterward. This business of space travel and even space battle was what he'd dreamed of, and he still wanted it. But it was very comforting to talk to Sally, who hadn't had to go through any of it.
"Write me a letter, will you?" he asked. "We can't tie up this beam very long."