path to conquest (28 page)

“Thanks, Popeye.”

Slowly, Pete got to his feet and moved back toward the base. The ball park was rocking, the organist stirring the place with the familiar chords of the “Charge” theme.

It all felt
great
—digging his spikes into the rich dirt of the infield, hearing the musical cacophony of the fans and the flapping of the pennants from the top rim of the upper deck, smelling the fresh-mown grass. He basked in all the comfortable sensations and in recollections from the old days. It was almost enough to make him forget all about starships and lasers, Visitors and war.

Almost . . .