"Two-and-Two's back in Jarviston, then?" Nelsen demanded.
"No--not anymore--just gimme breath," Hines went on. "He and Charlie had figured another destination of opportunity--Mercury, the planet nearest the sun, everlasting frozen night on one side, eternal, zinc-melting sunshine on the other. But there's the fringe zone between the two--the Twilight Zone. If you can live under stellene, you've got a better place there than Mars might have been. Colonists are going there, to quit the Earth, to get away from it all. Two-and-Two was about to leave for Mercury, when I last spoke to him. By now he's probably almost there. And even under the most favorable conditions, Mercury is hard to beam--too much solar magnetic interference."
"It probably isn't that bad, anymore," Hines commented. "Sometime I might go to Mercury, myself--when I get good and sick of sitting on my tail, here--when I always was a man of action! Mercury does have possibilities--plenty of solar power, certainly; plenty of frozen atmosphere on the dark face. Interesting, Frank... Oh, hell, I forgot--there's a letter here for you. And a package. Just arrived... I'll scram, now. Got to go down to the quays. Hold the fort, here, will you?"
Nelsen was glad to be alone. The lonesomeness of the Big Vacuum was getting grimed into him. When he saw the return name and address on the package, and the two hundred-ten dollar postage sticker, he thought, _Cripes--that poor kid--what did I start?_ Then the awful wave of nostalgia for Jarviston, Minnesota, hit him, as he fumbled to open the microfilmed letter capsule, and put it in the viewer.
"Hello, Frank--it has to be that, doesn't it, and not Mr. Nelsen, since you've sent me this miraculous bracelet--which I don't dare wear very much, since I don't want to lose an arm to some international--or even interstellar--jewel thief! It makes me feel like the Queen of Something--certainly not Serene, since it implies calmness and repose, which I certainly don't feel--no offense to our Miss Sands, whom I admire enormously. In a very small way I am repaying to you in kind--an item which I made, myself, and which I know that some spacemen use inside their Archers. You see, we are all informed in details. Paul, Otto, Chippie Potter and his dog, and other characters whom you won't remember, send their best greetings. Oh, I've got Stardust fever, too, but I'll yield to my folks' wishes and wait, and learn a profession that will be of some use Out There. May you wear what I'm sending in good health, safety and fortune. Send no more staggering gifts, please--I couldn't stand it--but please do write. Tell me how it really is in the Belt. You simply don't realize how much--"