John L. Chapman

“ His face was stone-like.
"You aren't Brooks," said Ferris. "What do you want?"
"Fuel," the other dropped a hand to a belt holster. "I need fuel for my ship—a lot of it. And you're the only fellow in my path who's got it. Let's not waste time."
"You've come to the wrong place," said Ferris, starting forward. "The barrels here are under government combination seal, and can't be opened by anyone other than the inspectors who accompany our regular ships."
"Nevertheless," the tall fellow drew his beam gun, "you have fuel in your repulsion tanks, and that's as good as any." ”

“ Lejeune shrugged. "Perhaps. We are falling into the sun, yes. We'll die, no doubt, so my future is definite. I know what is coming. Soon I shall be but a tiny spark, drifting nowhere in a big sun. Do I regret being a tiny spark? Not when I have my scotch with me."
"You're a smart guy," Lane thrust at him. "Maybe you can tell us how to choose the rocket capsule's passenger."
"Simple, my friend. The captain won't go—he must stay with the ship. I have no relatives, only my scotch, so I am satisfied. The doctor must stay—he's too fat to get in the capsule. ”

“ Then there will be no doubt as to what will be done. Ha!"
"Damnation!" yelled Lane, jerking erect. "How can you be so confounded happy about it all? We're falling into the sun, man—doesn't that have any effect upon you?" ”

“ Well, that's okay. He's a good man—"
"No, not just that. We've a passenger pilot's license for you, if you want it. Something we've been planning for some time. You're the only one of our station operators who has passed the exams."
Ferris grew red in the face. "Then, all this was just a—promotion?"
Galsworth nodded. "When the new Station 12 is situated, Brooks will take over. We've better things for you. Willing?"
To Ferris, it was overwhelming—more so than it had been aboard Siegal's cruiser. ”