“Thank God for bringing you back safely,” his father murmured huskily. “Are you ready to go home, son?”
Suddenly Marsh was terribly weary, and he felt as if he could sleep for days. “I am kind of tired,” he said. “Let’s go home and see Mom.”
The people around seemed to realize that this was not their moment. They parted ranks quietly as the father and his son walked through them and got into their car. As they drove off, even the stars and planets seemed to be standing silent and watchful, in respect for the dawn of space travel on the tiny pebble that was Earth.
MYSTERY EYES OVER EARTH
Dr. Myron Lowenthal, gaunt, keen-eyed, and sixty, shuffled over to the receptionist’s desk in an office in the Pentagon. Clutched tightly beneath one spidery arm was a worn brief case.
“May I see Mr. Goodnight, miss?” Dr. Lowenthal asked.
“Who shall I say is calling, sir?” the young woman asked mechanically, not looking up.
“Lowenthal.”
The young woman’s eyes lighted alertly as if the name were of great significance to her. “Of course, Dr. Lowenthal. Mr. Goodnight is expecting you. Go right in.”