“Er, no, Sir,” Garry replied. “We—my friend and I—we just want to see her blast off.”
The spaceman smiled. “Guess you are pretty interested in space to be coming all the way to the port just to see an old crate like the Orion blast off.”
“Yes, we are, Sir,” Garry replied. “I’m very interested in it. I hope to be a spaceman someday.”
“I think you will be, too,” the man said confidently. “I can see the enthusiasm in your eyes.”
“Thanks,” Garry returned. “Have you made many trips spaceward?”
“A dozen or so,” was the reply. “The number is not important, though, you must understand. Usually, one voyage can last quite a while.”
The spaceman extended a big, sunburned hand to Garry. “I’m First Space Officer Mulroy. What’s your name?”
“Garry, Sir. Garry Coleman. My friend here is Patrick Foster, but he’s called Patch for short.”
As the Ped-A-Ride neared the gate of the spaceport, Garry had an idea by which he and Patch might get inside without being questioned by the port police.
“Mr. Mulroy,” Garry said, “I notice that you have some baggage. I wonder if Patch and I could help you carry it—maybe aboard the Orion.”