David spoke as if the words had been shaken out: "He said she wouldn't
ever come back. Where is she?"
"At our island," Paul told him. "She's all right, David, and we're
going to take you to her. You want that, don't you?"
"Is _he_ going there?"
"We don't know, David. You want to go with us, don't you?"
"He hit her face. When she said it was his fault that they were all
giving up the city. He always had the guards. Six sat around his bed
every night. John and me, we tried. We made a grass picture like the
priest Kona told us to do, and did things with it and burned it. It
was no good."
Arek said, "Let's forget that for now. We're going to the new ship and
then the island. Shall I carry you? I've got two boys your age."
"Who're you? I never saw anybody like you."
She dropped on one knee, not too close to him. "I'm like you, David.
Just big and furry, that's all."
"Your mother, David"--said Wright, and swallowed--"your mother is
living in my house now. She was our friend long before you were born,
you know. She came from Earth with us.... You're with us, aren't you?"
The boy scuffed his bare feet in the dust. John was still crying.
David slapped him savagely. "You stop yakking, y'son of a bitch." The
words could have no meaning for him, Paul thought, beyond the
generalized stink of profanity. John stopped and rubbed his cheek
without apparent anger, gulping and then nodding. When Arek reached,
David let her pick him up, and he relaxed and buried his face in her
fur....
The giants made little of the miles. Mijok had Pakriaa and Nisana in
his arms and Miniaan perched on his shoulder. They had traveled often
that way on the troublesome journey to Vestoia. Elis carried Wright's
trifling 140 pounds, and Muson had John, her slow voice establishing
cautious friendship. Paul preferred to walk on his own feet, but
before long Sears-Danik stole up behind and swept him into a living
cradle. "Slow legs. Don't mind, do you, Pop?"
"Pop, huh? No, I don't mind, Danny. I was getting fifty-year-old
cramps and too dumb to admit it."
Dunin chuckled. "That's Danny: knows all, sees all, says nuf'n'. I'd
live with him awhile when he grows up if only he wasn't so lazy."
"What's wrong with being lazy?"
"Not a thing, rockhead. Only if you're going to explore, the way I am,
you can't be lazy, the way you are." She twisted a branch into a leaf
crown and walked backward before them, trying the crown on the boy's
head at different angles. "Ah, wonderful! Charging asonis--whuff
whuff--and now you look just like the kink that chewed up my diary to
make a nest."
"Which was your fault for leaving it on a shelf and not writing in it.
Explorers have to keep diaries. Doc said so--didn't he, Paul?"
"I'm strictly neutral, to avoid bouncing."
"So anyway, Dunin, when you trip over a root and smack your fanny, I'm
going to laugh."
She did. He did....
It was an hour before they overtook Spearman, who glanced back without
expression, without halting his powerful strides, his tanned body
gleaming with sweat and effort. Dunin sobered; she caught Paul's eyes.
She said, "May I carry you, Spearman? Then we can all reach the ship
at the same time."
Spearman gave no sign of hearing her. He drew up at the side of the
trail, staring at the ground, arms folded. David's face was hidden
again at Arek's breast; John seemed to be asleep. Dunin said, "Please?
Why should we leave you behind?"
Remote and desolate, Spearman watched the ground. Dunin moved on,
reluctantly, no more laughter in her. "What _is_ he thinking?"
Wright said, "At this moment he's probably thinking it's brutally
unfair that we should go on ahead of him."
"But I asked--"
"You did. What's more he hasn't anything against you. All the same,
that's about what he'll be thinking. Don't try too hard to understand
it, Dunin--I'm not sure it's worth it. Let's think about the ship.
Paul, is it possible, what he said about charlesite?"
"I reckon so, Doc. The flame certainly did change to green. I think I
remember, long ago, hearing some engineers discuss the possibility of
stepping up charlesite enough so it could be used in braking a big
ship for descent, instead of keeping the atomics on all the way down.
It would char everything over a wide area, but at least it wouldn't
make radioactive desert...."
"I can't feel it," Wright mumbled. "Mirage...."
It was no mirage. The ship _Jensen_ stood high above blackened ground
half a mile away; even here at the edge of forest there was a
lingering smell, anciently familiar. Paul felt himself grinning
stupidly. "Plain carbon tet or something like it. Must have shot it
out to kill any grass fires. No mirage."
Towering silver-white above a hundred-foot tripod, it flaunted the
letters of a great name, and David Spearman rubbed his eyes at it,
leaning against Arek's knee, accepting the protective touch of her
hand. Arek said, "What--Oh Paul, what will they be like?"
Wright shook his head, plainly feeling it now--the thought, the
memories, the pleasure, and something far from pleasure. Paul
answered, "They will--look like us, Arek."