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The Golden Journey by BERTRAM CHANDLER There's apt to be trouble on a prison ship bound for a penal asteroid. That the officers knew. But they weren't aware that they were also headed in for a dose of double-trouble! And twins can cause identity trouble anywhere. Illustrated by Orban It was at the airport that the commander first met Valerie Wayne. Perhaps it was some dim foreknowledge of this that accounted for the fascination the place had always held for him. Perhaps—and, knowing the man, I prefer this, his own explanation—it was just that he was acutely conscious of the romance of modern transport. If there had been a god of that name, he would have been its high priest. Be that as it may, he was always there long before the I.C.C. transport was due to take off for Port Revenal, our Saharan landing field. He would sit on the bench under the clock tower, you know, the one with all the faces showing Standard Times for all over the world, ostensibly waiting for the juniors to arrive and report their return from leave. The airport staff knew him, apart from anything else the black and gold astronaut's uniform made him an object of envy and |
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