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sterilized, filtered air, thirtyyears of drinking distilled water and swallowing synthetic food tabletshad changed us. The only things we weren't allergic to were the metaland plastic and synthetics of our ship, _this_ ship. We're allergic toEarth. That's funny, isn't it?"

  Gregory began to rock back and forth, laughing the thin high laugh ofhysteria. James silently walked to a water hydrant and filled a plasticcup. He brought Gregory a small white pill.

  "You wouldn't take this with the rest of us at supper. You'd better takeit now. You need it."

  Gregory nodded bleakly, sobering at once, and swallowed the pellet. Hemade a face after the water.

  "Distilled," he spat. "Distilled ... no flavor ... no life ... likeus ... distilled."

  "If only we could have blasted off again." Frankston's voice camemuffled through his hands. "It wouldn't have made any difference where.Anywhere or nowhere. No, our fine ship is obsolete and we're old, muchtoo old. They have the spacedrive now. Men don't make thirty-yearjunkets into space and come back allergic to Earth. They go out, and ina month or two they're back, with their hair still black and their eyesstill bright and their uniforms still fit. A month or two is all. Thosecrowds that cheered us, they were proud of us and sorry for us, becausewe'd been out thirty years and they never expected us back at all. Butit was inconvenient for Spaceport." Bitter sarcasm tinged his voice."They actually had to postpone the regular monthly Trans-Galactic runto let us in with this big, clumsy hulk."

  "Why didn't we ever see any of the new ships either going out or comingback?" asked Gregory.

  * * * * *

  Frankston shook his head. "You don't see a ship when it's in spacedrive.It's out of normal space-time dimensions. We had a smattering of thetheory at cadet school ... anyway, if one did flash into normalspace-time--say, for instance, coming in for a landing--the probabilityof us being at the same place at the same time was almost nil. 'Twoships passing in the night' as the old saying goes."

  Gregory nodded, "I guess Trippitt was the lucky one."

  "You didn't see Trippitt die," replied James.

  "What was it?" asked Frankston. "What killed Trippitt? So quickly, too.He was only outside a few minutes like the rest of us, and eight hourslater he was dead."

  "We couldn't be sure," answered James. "Some virus. There are countlessvarieties. People live in a contaminated atmosphere all their lives,build up a resistance to them. Sometimes a particularly virulent strainwill produce an epidemic, but most people, if they're affected, willhave a mild case of whatever it is and recover. But after thirty yearsin space, thirty years of breathing perfectly pure, uncontaminated air,Trippitt had no antibodies in his bloodstream. The virus hit and hedied."

  "But why didn't the rest of us get it?" asked Gregory.

  "We were lucky. Viruses are like that."

  "Those people talked about building a home for us," muttered Frankston."Why didn't they?"

  "It wouldn't have been any different," answered James gently. "It wouldhave been the same, almost an exact duplicate of the ship, everythingbut the rockets. Same metal and plastic and filtered air and syntheticfood. It couldn't have had wool rugs or down pillows or smiling wives orfresh air or eggs for breakfast. It would have been just like this. So,since the ship was obsolete, they gave it to us, and a plot of ground toanchor it to, and we're home. They did the best they could for us, thevery best they could."

  "But I feel stifled, shut in!"

  "The ship is large, Frankston. We all crowd into this section because,without each other, we'd go mad." James kicked the edge of the magazineon the floor. "Thank God we're not allergic to decontaminated paper.There's still reading."

  "We're getting old," said Gregory. "Some day one of us will be herealone."

  "God help him then," answered James, with more emotion than was usualfor him.

  * * * * *

  During the latter part of the conversation, the little red signal hadbeen flashing persistently. Finally James saw it. Ross was in the outerlock. James threw the decontaminator switch and the signal winked out.Every trace of dust and pollen would have to be removed from Ross's suitbefore he could come inside the ship.

  "Just like on an alien planet," commented Gregory.

  "Isn't that what this is to us--an alien planet?" asked Frankston, andneither of the other men dared answer his bitter question.

  A few minutes later, Ross was back in the cabin, and James helped himout of his spacesuit.

  "How are the geraniums, Ross?" asked Gregory.

  "Fine," said Ross enthusiastically. "They're doing just fine."

  He walked over to his bunk and lay down on his side so he could see outof the viewport. There would be an hour left before darkness fell, anhour to watch the geraniums. They were tall and red, and swayed slightlyin the evening breeze.

  --LYN VENABLE

  Transcriber's Note:

  This etext was produced from _Galaxy Science Fiction_ December 1952. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.

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