ILLUSTRATED BY EBERLE
Burt was tired of taking his family out to the asteroids
for a picnic every week-end. But with a wife and
two spoiled brats to goad him into the regular routine,
what could a man do? Only, as it turned out,
this particular picnic wasn't quite regular routine!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Rocket Stories, July 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Burt reached out for the stud that would fire the fore-rockets, but asmall white hand already rested on the button.
"Let me, Daddy. You promised—"
When he wanted something, Johnny's voice took on that wailing quality.He wanted something now; Burt had promised him that he could land theship.
"Okay," Burt said. "Press it—now. Now!"
Johnny took his hand off the stud. "Don't holler at me," he told hisfather severely.
Burt swore under his breath and jammed down on the stud. A red lightoverhead winked on and off furiously, and he knew that if he hadwaited another moment they would have plowed into the asteroid like abattering ram into a tub of soft butter.
"Marcia, oh Marcia!" he turned and called over his shoulder to his wife.
She stuck her head in through the galley door. "Dear," she said, "letme make these sandwiches, will you? I don't tell you how to pilot theship, but I'll never get this lunch all packed unless you let me alone."
Burt scowled. "That's the general idea. I want to be let alone, too. Soif you'll just take your darling little son the devil out of here—"
"Why, Burt Rogers! Johnny's only eight, and he's quite harmless. If Ihad known ten years ago that you didn't like children—"
Burt shook his head. "Joan's fine. Joan is two years younger thanJohnny, but she doesn't bother anyone. She just sits in the galleyand—"
"Hah!" Marcia snorted. "She sits in the galley and digs her arms intothe mayonnaise tub up to the elbows, that's all."
"Well, then they're both brats."
"Burt!"
"They are, and it's your fault, Marcia. You always say let the childrenexpress themselves, we can't frustrate them or cut them short in anyway—so look what happens."
"You look what happens," Marcia declared dramatically. "If we don'tpull out of the dive in a couple of seconds, we'll splatter all overthat planetoid."
"Let me land it, let me land it!" wailed Johnny.
Burt spun to the controls, and his fingers flicked rapidly overthe buttons. He was sweating when he brought the ship down with anone-too-gentle dump. He heard Joan's whimper from inside the galley,and Marcia began to tell him what a lousy pilot he was. Johnny wasplaying cops and robbers with the topography through the foreport.
"This," Burt said, "is the last week-end picnic for me. Definitely thelast."
Marcia opened her mouth to say something, but Burt cut her off. "Idon't want to hear any more about it. You'll just have to find anotherway for the kids to express themselves...."
They usually found an asteroid with a weird terrain, and just lookingat it through the portable bubble-sphere kept the kids pretty busy.This time, however, things were different. The asteroid was onlytwenty miles in diameter, yet it had an atmosphere of oxygen and inertgases, and it was comfortably warm. No bubble-sphere this time to keepthe kids hemmed in—and Johnny and Joan would be roving all over theuncharted surface.
Burt shuddered. What a job he'd have today. But then, this was the lasttime: they could talk themselves blue in the face and plead, but thiswas the last time.... And maybe there'd