"You're the Marthe Walters who does those profile sketches for Public." "It's honest work, but it's a living." "You've come to the right place. Remember? That was when I was going to be a journalist." She rushed through the introductions, and memory clicked. "Marthe was a senior when I was a freshman, Rafe. But how is one to know? Bet was offering explanations. I wished so desperately afterward that I had pushed her face in. I should have done so, but didn't because of that cheeky grin, and that's how Marthe Walters came to be mixed up in this mess. "I'm going to be quite shameless," she announced, "and presume on an old school friendship." I liked the way she grinned and practically dared me to throw her out of the family circle. At about that moment a feminine voice hailed us, and Bet whirled around, crying out, "Marthe!" An extremely attractive young woman detached herself from a group of obvious
WOMAN WITH COBALT GLASSES ALTAIR TV
And he deserves the reception." "Uh huh," I said, "and what's more, David himself would be the last to disagree with you." Officials were opening a way for us, and I shoved Bet along it with the Miss Lewisham, who headed like a homing duck for the TV cameras. "David's the captain, and the owner, too. "Oh, you always have to be so nasty," she snapped. "And all for David." "There are some other men on that ship, too," I said.
"Isn't it wonderful!" said Bet, around a lump in her throat. I remember that there were flags, and somebody had prepared a speech. Word had gone out that the Anson McQuarrie was due in from somewhere beyond the Pleiades, and there were thousands of people backed up behind the barricades. Interplanetary flight had long ago ceased to be a thing of breathless wonder to the populace, but star-ships were still new and rare, and the men who flew them were still heroic. Bet's hair still behaved like hair, and blew. She had spent hours getting herself up to be as like her as possible, but it was all in vain. She was one of these handsome, shallow-eyed babes as perfectly machined as a chunk of bakelite, and just as human. The Miss Lewisham had family but no money, and David had both, and that was as far as it went. We had driven down to the spaceport to meet him-myself, and Bet, who was David's and my sister, just out of college, and David's fiancée, a Miss Lewisham.
It was a day that will remain for a long while on the calendar of the McQuarrie family, marked heavily in red. I Ahrian What a great day it was for everybody, when David came home from deep space. The Woman from Altair Leigh Brackett Startling Stories July, 1951
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