Alan Edward Nourse

“ Tad's eyes were bright as he patted the dog's head. His whole body seemed alive with excitement. "I walked up on the ridge to get a look at it, dad. It's a beauty—tall and slim—you should see it down there. It catches the sunset like you never saw before—"
He was still talking as he walked out to the kitchen, stooping to kiss his mother on the forehead. "You ought to go up and take a look at it, mom—before the sun's gone."
"I've got plenty to do without going to gawk at a Rocket ship," his mother's voice was sharp. "You have too, for that matter. Did you get the tractor bolts for your father?" ”

“ So many things can go wrong, and any one of them means you're through. Not a brave death, son, nor a heroic death—just a very lonely death, where you freeze and starve, and feel the life choke out of you. ”

“ You don't know what you're saying—" his hands trembled. "Space is no place for a fellow like you—you belong here, studying, working—not hopping around space like a common tramp." He tamped tobacco into his pipe bowl with an air of finality. "Every boy nowadays thinks about going to Space, I know. The fleets are growing larger, taking more and more boys—but the smart ones stay home."
Tad's voice was low and quiet, more deadly firm than George had ever heard it. "You don't understand, dad. ”

“ Tad put down his fork, a subtle change in his voice, his hand trembling. "We had a long talk, dad. Len says—"
"Len Cooper's a fool!" George Barlow's voice snapped irritably. "He hasn't got all his marbles. A kid like that—all the potential in the world—brains, opportunity—and what does he do with it? Shoots it into Rockets! First cruise, huh? It isn't his last, by a long shot. Those Rocket boys aren't stupid. They know it takes a good cruise to teach a youngster his way around out there. He can't begin to work for his wages until the second cruise, or the third. ”