The Reluctant Heroes
By FRANK M. ROBINSON
Illustrated by DON SIBLEY
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Galaxy Science Fiction January 1951.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Pioneers have always resented their wanderlust, hated
their hardships. But the future brings a new grudge—when
pioneers stay put and scholars do the exploring!
The very young man sat on the edge of the sofa and looked nervous. Hecarefully studied his fingernails and ran his hands through his hairand picked imaginary lint off the upholstery.
"I have a chance to go with the first research expedition to Venus,"he said.
The older man studied the very young man thoughtfully and then leanedover to his humidor and offered him a cigaret. "It's nice to have thenew air units now. There was a time when we had to be very carefulabout things like smoking."
The very young man was annoyed.
"I don't think I want to go," he blurted. "I don't think I would careto spend two years there."
The older man blew a smoke ring and watched it drift toward the airexhaust vent.
"You mean you would miss it here, the people you've known and grownup with, the little familiar things that have made up your life here.You're afraid the glamor would wear off and you would get to hate it onVenus."
The very young man nodded miserably. "I guess that's it."
"Anything else?"
The very young man found his fingernails extremely fascinating againand finally said, in a low voice, "Yes, there is."
"A girl?"
A nod confirmed this.
It was the older man's turn to look thoughtful. "You know, I'm sure,that psychologists and research men agree that research stations shouldbe staffed by couples. That is, of course, as soon as it's practical."
"But that might be a long time!" the very young man protested.
"It might be—but sometimes it's sooner than you think. And the goalis worth it."
"I suppose so, but—"
The older man smiled. "Still the reluctant heroes," he said, somewhatto himself.
Chapman stared at the radio key.
Three years on the Moon and they didn't want him to come back.
Three years on the Moon and they thought he'd be glad to stay for more.Just raise his salary or give him a bonus, the every-man-has-his-priceidea. They probably thought he liked it there.
Oh, sure, he loved it. Canned coffee, canned beans, canned pills,and canned air until your insides felt as though they were platedwith tin. Life in a cramped, smelly little hut where you could takeonly ten steps in any one direction. Their little scientific home oftomorrow with none of the modern conveniences, a charming place whereyou couldn't take a shower, couldn't brush your teeth, and your kidneysdidn't work right.
And for double his salary they thought he'd be glad to stay for anotheryear and a half. Or maybe three. He should probably be glad he had theopportunity.
The key started to stutter again, demanding an answer.
He tapped out his reply: "No!"
There was a silence and then the key stammered once more in a suddenfit of bureaucra