Farmer in the Sky Read Online Free PDF Page B

Dad. I heard my name called and turned around and there was Duck Miller. “Gee, Bill,” he said, “I thought I'd missed you.”
    “Hi, Duck. No, I'm still here.”
    “I tried to call you last night but your phone answered 'service discontinued,' so I hooked school and came up.”
    “Aw, you shouldn't have done that.”
    “But I wanted to bring you this.” He handed me a package, a whole pound of chocolates. I didn't know what to say.
    I thanked him and then said, “Duck, I appreciate it, I really do. But I'll have to give them back to you.”
    “Huh? Why?”
    “Weight Mass, I mean. I can't get by with another ounce.”
    “You can carry it.”
    “That won't help. It counts just the same.”
    He thought about it and said, “Then let's open it.”
    I said, “Fine,” and did so and offered him a piece. I looked at them myself and my stomach was practically sitting up and begging. I don't know when I've been so hungry.
    I gave in and ate one. I figured I would sweat it off anyhow; it was getting hot and I had my Scout uniform on under my ship suit—and that's no way to dress for the Mojave Desert in June! Then I was thirstier than ever, of course; one thing leads to another.
    I went over to a drinking fountain and took a very small drink. When I came back I closed the candy box and handed it back to Duck and told him to pass it around at next Scout meeting and tell the fellows I wished they were going along. He said he would and added, “You know, Bill, I wish I was going. I really do.”
    I said I wished he was, too, but when did he change his mind? He looked embarrassed but about then Mr. Kinski showed up and then Dad showed up, with Molly and the brat—Peggy—and Molly's sister, Mrs. van Metre. Everybody shook hands all around and Mrs. van Metre started to cry and the brat wanted to know what made my clothes so bunchy and what was I sweating about?
    George was eyeing me, but about then our names were called and we started moving through the gate.
    George and Molly and Peggy were weighed through and then it was my turn. My baggage was right on the nose, of course, and then I stepped on the scales. They read one hundred and thirty-one and one tenth pounds—I could have eaten another chocolate.
    “Check!” said the weightmaster, then he looked up and said, “What in the world have you got on, son?”
    The left sleeve of my uniform had started to unroll and was sticking out below the half sleeve of my ship suit. The merit badges were shining out like signal lights.
    I didn't say anything. He started feeling the lumps the uniform sleeves made. “Boy,” he said, “you're dressed like an arctic explorer; no wonder you're sweating. Didn't you know you weren't supposed to wear anything but the gear you were listed in?”
    Dad came back and asked what the trouble was? I just stood there with my ears burning. The assistant weightmaster got into the huddle and they argued what should be done. The weightmaster phoned somebody and finally he said, “He's inside his weight limit;   if he wants to call that monkey suit part of his skin, we'll allow it. Next customer, please!”
    I trailed along, feeling foolish. We went down inside and climbed on the slide strip, it was cool down there, thank goodness. A few minutes later we got off at the loading room down under the rocket ship. Sure enough, it was the Bifrost, as Ifound out when the loading elevator poked above ground and stopped at the passenger port. We filed in.
    They had it all organized. Our baggage had been taken from us in the loading room; each passenger had a place assigned by his weight. That split us up again; I was on the deck immediately under the control room. I found my place, couch 14-D, then went to a view port where I could see the Daedalus and the Icarus.
    A brisk little stewardess, about knee high to a grasshopper, checked my name off a list and offered me an injection against dropsickness. I said no, thanks.
    She said, “You've been out