Child, it was, of the now ancient H bomb. New. Untested. Would its terrible power sweep the stark Saturnian moon of Titan from space... or miraculously create a flourishing paradise colony?

Under the glow of Saturn and his Rings, five of the airdomes of the new colony on Titan were still inflated. They were enormous bubbles of clear, flexible plastic. But the sixth airdome had flattened. And beneath its collapsed roof, propped now by metal rods, a dozen men in spacesuits had just lost all hope of rescuing the victims of the accident.

Bert Kraskow, once of Oklahoma City, more recently a space freighter pilot, and now officially just a colonist, was among them. His small, hard body sagged, as if by weariness. His lips curled. But his full anger and bitterness didn't show.

'Nine dead,' he remarked into the radio phone of his oxygen helmet. 'No survivors.' And then, inaudibly, inside his mind: 'I'm a stinkin' fool. Why didn't we act against Space Colonists' Supply Incorporated, before this could happen?'

© 2016 Anncona Media AB (دفتر الصوت ): 9789177590231
© 2016 Anncona Media AB (كتاب ): 9789177590224

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