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“Sandwich, mister? Pop?”

Karl flipped the boy a coin, picked up some food and a drink, and wandered over to the landing field with Hill. There were still ten minutes or so to go before the rocket landed, but he caught himself straining his sight at the blue sky, trying to see a telltale flicker of exhaust flame.

The field was crowded and he caught some of the buzzing conversation.

“... never knew one myself, but let me tell you....”

“... knew a fellow once who married one, never had a moment’s rest afterward....”

“... no comparison with colonial women. They got culture....”

“... I’d give a lot to know the girl who’s got number twenty-five....”

“Let’s meet back here with the girls who have picked our numbers,” Hill said. “Maybe we could trade.”

Karl nodded, though privately he felt that the number system was just as good as depending on first impressions.

There was a murmur from the crowd and he found his gaze riveted overhead. High above, in the misty blue sky, was a sudden twinkle of fire.