"A boat out already?" Paul searched and found the silver flight.
Wright chattered: "Have we anything, anything white? No--you and I out
in the open, Paul--rest of you keep back. They need to recognize what
we are--" He was shaking, and Paul embraced his shoulders to steady
him as they moved into the open ground. Wright giggled hysterically.
"Damn white flag myself--my whiskers--"
The boat swooped, swelling from a dot to keen familiar lines; it
circled above them twice and came to earth in a perfect landing a
hundred feet away. A blank pallor in the pilot's window would be a
human face; there would be a human brain shocked into new wonder. It
was still necessary for Paul to help his teacher through the grass,
for Wright was swaying and stumbling. Paul reminded him: "They'll be
sealed up, afraid of the air."
"Ah, yes. I say they needn't be--we have good air on Lucifer...."
Paul was aware of his own struggle for sanity, for clarity in the
beginning of this impossible joy which was not pure joy. He heard
himself shout at the top of his strong lungs: "'Ahoy the _Jensen_!'
No, they won't hear it. Yes--they did, they did."
The door slid open for a meeting of two worlds. A square little bald
man, a tall gray-haired woman who fussed at her ears, troubled by the
change in atmospheric pressure. Faded overalls, the human look,
incredulous stares changing to belief. The bald man gulped and
stumbled; he grinned and held out his hand. "Dr. Christopher Wright, I
presume?"
Wright could neither speak nor let go the hand. The woman said, "You
must be--well, who could forget the photographs?--you're Paul Mason."
"Yes, We never--for years we haven't even thought--" "Mark Slade,"
said the bald man, "Captain Slade. This is Dr. Nora Stern.... Sir,
I--you are well? You look well--"
"We are well," said Wright.
"I'm afraid to ask--the others? Dr. Oliphant? Captain Jensen? The--the
little girls? And there was a young engineer--Edmund Spearman...."
Paul managed to say, "Both little girls are mothers. Dr. Oliphant and
Captain Jensen died--Jensen on the ship, in the last acceleration.
Spearman is--will be here before long, I think. You may find him
somewhat changed--" Wright said, "We must let Ed speak for himself,
Paul." In spite of the shock, the newness, Dr. Stern was sensitive to
nuances. She said too loudly, "Beautiful country." She pressed both
hands to her ears and took them away and spoke in a normal voice:
"There...! Oh, what strange steep hills...!"
"N-not like any rock of Earth," Paul stammered. "Defies erosion." _And
I am speaking with the pride of a home lover...._ "The open ground is
a little dangerous--flying carnivores. Come and meet our friends."
Captain Slade had already seen the giants and pygmies at the edge of
the woods; his small monkey face was ablaze with friendly curiosity
and the startled amusement that will wake at anything new, but he
said, "In just a moment. Let me take this in. If I can.... We've done
it, Nora." He filled his lungs deeply, blinking at a few tears of
pleasure. "A world like ours--a new world. Oh, Nora, it'll be a long
time before we can believe this, you and I.... High oxygen, we
noticed--feels like it. Sir, your ship--"
"Lost," said Wright, tranquilly now, no longer shaking from head to
foot. "Out of control in descent, fell in a lake"--he motioned over
his shoulder--"a few miles over there. We call it Lake Argo. Too deep
even to think of salvage. One of the lifeboats cracked up; we used the
other for about a year. Our friends, Captain--you'll like our
friends--"
Slade murmured, "Speculation on parallel evolution seems to have been
sound--here anyway. Humanoid, I see. Two species?"
"Human," said Wright. "Their English, by the way, is better than mine.
They are close to us, Captain--very dear to us."
"I--see," said Captain Slade kindly. Paul thought: _He can't see--it's
too new. But maybe he will try to see_.
"How many in your party, Captain?"
Slade grinned. "Only four, Mr. Mason." _Heavens! Mister? That's me._
"A smaller crew, bigger ship. Federation thought best. We left
thirteen years after you. Twelve years on the journey. Of course we've
had to double in brass considerably. The other two are a young
couple--Jimmy Mukerji; he's from Calcutta--Oh, and by the way, Dr.
Wright, his mother was Sigrid Hoch, anthropologist, one of your
students."
"Sigrid--" Wright groped in the past. "Of course. I remember." But
Paul guessed that he did not.
"Jimmy's a botanist _and_ engineer _and_--oh, general technician, good
anywhere. Sally Marino--another good technician. Frankly I didn't want
specialists--wanted kids who could turn a hand to anything, and I got
'em." Slade's friendly face saddened; he and Dr. Stern were walking
clumsily to the woods, feeling the change in gravity. "Ours was to be
the last interstellar ship, Dr. Wright, until either you or we came
home. There'll be no building going on now. A Federation
decision--matter of public opinion as well as economics. Well, the old
lady over there did cost twice as much as your _Argo_, upped the
Federation poll tax three per cent just to pay for her on paper. Could
have got around that, maybe, but there was a beginning of public
hysteria, protest--resentment at the idea of throwing lives and
billions into space with nothing to show for it for many years.
Fanatics on both sides, and both noisy, plus the war scare of course.
Short-term thinking. Human."
"You can't blame them," said Nora Stern.
"I do blame them, Nora, now that we know it can be done...."
Elis had tried to be ready with a little speech of welcome, but
shyness made him stiff with dignity, and it was evident that Dunin
would break loose in nervous giggling. Elis said only, "You're very
welcome. We hope you'll enjoy it here." Pakriaa might have been back
in the days of tribal grandeur, but her control too was only a result
of shyness and wonder as she echoed the Governor's words. It was
unfairly difficult for the newcomers, Paul could see--the giants'
furry nakedness and majesty, the pygmies' tininess and wrinkled
baldness; even the Charin-like beauty of Miniaan's features might be
invisible to new Charin eyes. But Slade and Dr. Stern behaved well,
with a natural friendliness. "Why," said Slade, "these boys--"
"John and David Spearman," Paul explained. "Ann's boys. Spearman--we
think he'll be here shortly."