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Pogorus, v. 1, issue 1, 1942
Page 23
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for two years. If you fly anywhere in the next couple of years, it will be as a passenger, only. If you so much as touch a space-stick, so help me, I'll toss you in the can so quick it'll blow your jets! " I admit that I was mighty burned over the raw deal that Milligan handed me, but I got over it. I got myself a nice, safe ground job, but no dice[[?]]. Once a space bug, always a space bug, I guess. So I sold the Star Maid, my slack[[?]] little space yacht, and bought passage on a moon liner. I prospected[[?]] awhile in the lunar desert out around Tycho. Not much luck, so I went back to Luna City and got a job in the space port there. Luna City is full of guys, stranded on the moon, working at anything they can get, to earn passage money home. None of that stuff for me. If I ever went back to Earth, I was going in style, in my own ship. Bit by bit, plate by plate, I earned money to buy old parts, Star Maid II was taking shape in my workshop out on the lunar desert. Radically new in design, she was practically all air and water tanks. A huge parachute-brake, for a fuelless landing in atmosphere, formed the nose of the craft, replacing the usual nose-jets. She wasn't pretty, but she was all mine, I reflected, the day I welded the last plate in place. That day I went down to the radio station and sent to Earth for a renewal of my spaceman's license. My two years were up. While waiting for Milligan's okay, I finished fueling the StarMaid[[?]], and dived[[?]] into the brain-fagging[[?]] jet of plotting my course. Milligan had forgotten me, as I had hoped, so I got a clean ticket for the trip home. His okay came through the day before I had planned
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for two years. If you fly anywhere in the next couple of years, it will be as a passenger, only. If you so much as touch a space-stick, so help me, I'll toss you in the can so quick it'll blow your jets! " I admit that I was mighty burned over the raw deal that Milligan handed me, but I got over it. I got myself a nice, safe ground job, but no dice[[?]]. Once a space bug, always a space bug, I guess. So I sold the Star Maid, my slack[[?]] little space yacht, and bought passage on a moon liner. I prospected[[?]] awhile in the lunar desert out around Tycho. Not much luck, so I went back to Luna City and got a job in the space port there. Luna City is full of guys, stranded on the moon, working at anything they can get, to earn passage money home. None of that stuff for me. If I ever went back to Earth, I was going in style, in my own ship. Bit by bit, plate by plate, I earned money to buy old parts, Star Maid II was taking shape in my workshop out on the lunar desert. Radically new in design, she was practically all air and water tanks. A huge parachute-brake, for a fuelless landing in atmosphere, formed the nose of the craft, replacing the usual nose-jets. She wasn't pretty, but she was all mine, I reflected, the day I welded the last plate in place. That day I went down to the radio station and sent to Earth for a renewal of my spaceman's license. My two years were up. While waiting for Milligan's okay, I finished fueling the StarMaid[[?]], and dived[[?]] into the brain-fagging[[?]] jet of plotting my course. Milligan had forgotten me, as I had hoped, so I got a clean ticket for the trip home. His okay came through the day before I had planned
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