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Breakaway
Breakaway (in Short Science Fiction Collection 018 )
She surely got her wish ... but there was some question about getting
what she wanted.
Phil Conover pulled the zipper of his flight suit up the front of his
long, thin body and came into the living room. His face, usually serious
and quietly handsome, had an alive, excited look. And the faint lines
around his dark, deep-set eyes were accentuated when he smiled at his
wife.
"All set, honey. How do I look in my monkey suit?"
His wife was sitting stiffly on the flowered couch that was still not
theirs completely. In her fingers she held a cigarette burned down too
far. She said, "You look fine, Phil. You look just right." She managed a
smile. Then she leaned forward and crushed the cigarette in the ash
tray on the maple coffee table and took another from the pack.
He came to her and touched his hands to her soft blond hair, raising her
face until she was looking into his eyes. "You're the most beautiful
girl I know. Did I ever tell you that?"
"Yes, I think so. Yes, I'm sure you did," she said, finishing the
ritual; but her voice broke, and she turned her head away. Phil sat
beside her and put his arm around her small shoulders. He had stopped
smiling.
"Honey, look at me," he said. "It isn't going to be bad. Honestly it
isn't. We know exactly how it will be. If anything could go wrong, they
wouldn't be sending me; you know that. I told you that we've sent five
un-manned ships up and everyone came back without a hitch."
She turned, facing him. There were tears starting in the corners of her
wide, brown eyes, and she brushed them away with her hand.
"Phil, don't go. Please don't. They can send Sammy. Sammy doesn't have a
She surely got her wish ... but there was some question about getting
what she wanted.
Phil Conover pulled the zipper of his flight suit up the front of his
long, thin body and came into the living room. His face, usually serious
and quietly handsome, had an alive, excited look. And the faint lines
around his dark, deep-set eyes were accentuated when he smiled at his
wife.
"All set, honey. How do I look in my monkey suit?"
His wife was sitting stiffly on the flowered couch that was still not
theirs completely. In her fingers she held a cigarette burned down too
far. She said, "You look fine, Phil. You look just right." She managed a
smile. Then she leaned forward and crushed the cigarette in the ash
tray on the maple coffee table and took another from the pack.
He came to her and touched his hands to her soft blond hair, raising her
face until she was looking into his eyes. "You're the most beautiful
girl I know. Did I ever tell you that?"
"Yes, I think so. Yes, I'm sure you did," she said, finishing the
ritual; but her voice broke, and she turned her head away. Phil sat
beside her and put his arm around her small shoulders. He had stopped
smiling.
"Honey, look at me," he said. "It isn't going to be bad. Honestly it
isn't. We know exactly how it will be. If anything could go wrong, they
wouldn't be sending me; you know that. I told you that we've sent five
un-manned ships up and everyone came back without a hitch."
She turned, facing him. There were tears starting in the corners of her
wide, brown eyes, and she brushed them away with her hand.
"Phil, don't go. Please don't. They can send Sammy. Sammy doesn't have a
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Published January 1, 2019
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