BLACK SILENCE
By EMMETT McDOWELL
Thundering back they came across cold space—eyes
aching for remembered vistas, nostrils flaring
for sweet fresh air, feet itching to tread on
precious soil. They stepped down—into a wasted
lifeless horror! Eying each other in despair, they
wondered. Must they—could they—colonize
an alien world they once called HOME?
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Planet Stories Fall 1947.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Earth!" said Matthew Magoffin happily. "Good old Terra. Sounds wonderful, doesn't it?" Elbows on table, he sat listening to the specially-beamed broadcast from Earth. Half a dozen other members of the first expedition to Mars were also in the messroom of the Argus.
"What's first on your program when we land, Lynn?"
They had been out two and a half years, and it was a subject of which they never wearied.
Lynn said, "A bath—a real one. Not out of a tea cup." She was the expedition's photographer and reporter, a small blonde with a soft triangular face.
The music stopped in the middle of a bar. An announcer's voice broke in.