'I'm Senator Sherman Brown,' the senator told him. 'Supposed to dedicate the battle monument.'
'Well, I'll be a freckled frog!' said Gramp.
Jurg Tec chuckled.
Gramp whirled on him. 'No wisecracks, Marshy,' he warned.
'Here, here,' shouted the senator. 'You fellows quiet down. No more fighting.'
Space-armored, the four of them left the ship and tramped up the hill toward the ridge top.
Faintly in his helmet-phones, Gramp heard the crunch of carbon dioxide snow beneath their feet, its hiss against the space suits.
Jupiter was setting, a huge red and orange ball with a massive scallop gnawed from its top half.
Against this darkened, unseen segment of the primary rode the quarter moon of tiny To, while just above, against the black of space, hung the shining sickle of Europa. The sun had set many hours before.
'Pretty as a Christmas tree,' Gramp said.